The Whole Story
by ladyjssem
Summary: The complete story from everyone's favourite dwarf, even the bits he was trying to keep to himself. Rated M for language, violence, and sexual content. But with all the fun we love, includes both DA2 and DAI.
1. Introduction: Varric Meets a Fan

(Please see bottom of chapters for notes! Reviews, favs, etc are appreciated and welcome!)

 **The Whole Story**

 _A tale spanning Dragon Age 2 and Inquistion, prehaps even beyond._

 **Introduction**

 _Varric meets a fan_

 _Age of the Dragon 9:38_

"Well _dwarf_ ," The Seeker sneered, making the word sound like a curse, "I will need to confirm everything that you have told me, but know this - if I find out you have not told me the complete story..." The Seeker turned on her heel and stormed away, the door slamming and the sound of her boots echoing as she walked away.  
Varric was left alone for the first time in what felt like years, he waited until he could no longer hear the clank of her boots then gave a sigh of relief. He ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at the greasy feel of it, how long had it been since he had been clean? Slumping more comfortably in the chair, his hand touched a welt, making him wince; a "gift" from one of the Seeker's friends. To be fair, Varric did bash the guard's nose in, but the human had touched his beloved crossbow, Bianca, without permission. That just couldn't slide. Cassandra was lucky he was feeling generous, well that and if he was a smidgen more honest, he also needed to make sure someone defended Hawke. Maker knew that choirboy Sebastian wouldn't, and everybody else had gone their separate ways after Hawke was forced on the lam.  
Varric's face darkened a little, before pulling what looked to be a pocket watch from one of his duster's inner pockets, opening it to reveal a picture of his 'sainted' mother as well as his timepiece. A twist of the dial, a single short press followed by a pull, the watch detached from the back to reveal a lock of silvery hair with odd black, almost blue, tips, and a picture of a young woman with two coloured eyes.  
Varric gazed at the picture, stroking the hair idly. The woman wore a bright red scarf that covered her chin, her faintly tanned skin almost ivory, unpainted pink lips barely showing over the scarf. The woman's hair was loose, almost scruffy showing she could not be bothered with such frivolous things like bejewelled combs as his normal dalliances used to wear. But her hair was like moonlight against her skin, with a hint of blue-black at the very tips, like a silver fox's fur.  
 _Foxy Hawke_ , he remembered calling her that once, after she had cut her hair to prove, one and for all, that it was her real hair colour, and ended up with her knuckles digging into his skull while everyone guffawed at the name and sight. It also began his habit of calling her "The Vixen" in more private settings. Varric gave an absent minded chuckle, remembering, his eyes landing again on her striking eyes.  
The artist had done a fantastic job considering Varric could not get Hawke to come for a single sitting. The fact the man had even noticed Hawke's bi-coloured eyes was a testament to the artist's skill. Most people either said she had glacial blue eyes or demonic gold eyes that burned like fire, not noticing they were only half right.  
People never noticed anything past the fact she was a pretty girl, with almost frail looking features. They couldn't see she had stupidly long and thick lashes, a heart shaped face with soft, sweet lips that gave a smile people would die to see, that melted even a Qunari's heart, hidden strength in those small delicate hands...  
 _Hold it together, Tethras..._ Varric scolded himself, closing the watch with a snap. He held it tight for several long moments, simply trying to collect himself, then gave a tired sigh and allowed himself to remember the things he didn't tell the Seeker... things she couldn't or wouldn't be able to find out...

 **Welcome to the very start of story that's been needing to be told! If you've glanced at this before and notice something different, that's because I came to the realization I can't just throw 35k worth of words into one section and call it done. This has become an Epic, and must be treated as such. I hope you enjoy the ride, its going to be a long one!**


	2. Chapter 1: Varric Meets Hawke

**Chapter One**

 _Varric meets Hawke_

 _Andraste's flaming arse cheeks_ , Varric cursed as he saw a pair of young men talking to his brother, and said "wiser" older brother was clearly telling them where they could stuff it. So much for meeting them beforehand, now he had to find a way... his honey brown eyes landed on a familiar shock of red hair. A smile spread on his beardless face, the red-headed pickpocket owed him a favour and it was time to collect.  
Varric waited, Bianca twitching in his hands, watching his pickpocket bump into the smaller of the Hawke brothers... then had to stare as a long glaive shaved off a couple inches of fiery hair. It was complete luck the boy ducked in time, allowing Varric to complete his plan; a well placed bolt, and the dwarf saves the day. Although he did have to add a couple extra silver in the purse he passed to the thief.  
No body mentioned that the elder, though smaller, Hawke was like a falcon with his strange staff weapon. Varric's reports weren't clear on the elder Hawke's abilities, but he knew the human was a powerhouse of some sort. Thinking about it, he didn't even have his given name, only the younger brother's, Carver. But from what he gathered Carver was the one to talk to, the other seeming to act more like a bodyguard: silent but protective. However, from the way they acted, as he swaggered towards them, this was not actually the case...  
"Varric Tethras at your service," He said with a smirk and an exaggerated bow. Varric saw Carver's ice blue eyes narrow, then glance down towards his brother, Hawke... did something, and Carver's eyes glinted in anger before looking back at the dwarf,  
"Are we going to be charged for wasting your brother's time?" Another glare, "Or are we just going to be invited to a dark alley and not to be coming out?"  
The smaller Hawke had crossed his arms over his chest, and just stared at Varric, studying the beardless dwarf with cold eyes. However, Varric was the one doing a double take noticing Hawke had bi coloured eyes. He found this... annoying. Hadn't anyone he hired actually taken notice? It should have been in his reports, especially since the only identifiable information he had received was the bright red, tasselled scarf wrapped tightly around Hawke's mouth, making it impossible to see his features, even his nose was hidden! That left his eyes those... actually rather nerve racking eyes. Varric found himself feeling uncomfortable under the slim human's gaze, and caught himself shifting nervously, even though he knew, despite not being the strong-arm sort himself, he could snap the human like a twig.  
Now that he had the chance, Varric took the opportunity to study the young men. The elder Hawke was indeed tiny compared to his younger brother, wearing an interesting robe and leather armour set. Any hint of how he looked was hidden under layers, until only his eyes and a hint of pale skin was shown. To say Varric itched to see the human's real appearance, was an understatement. All he actually knew was this... leather clad enigma got the job done, and was someone he wanted to know.  
The younger Hawke, Carver, was known for his temper and baiting his older brother. Varric decided the boy was decent enough in appearance, nothing jaw dropping but not displeasing. The greatsword at his back seemed well used, and he seemed to have the strength for it. Varric also knew Carver to be a decent warrior, army trained, though not army disciplined. His eyes were a cobalt blue, but did not carry the heaviness of his brother's gaze, he seemed to try to make up by being overly aggressive, in comparison to his brother's natural intimidating gaze. Though he lost some of his aggressive looks because his coal black hair was tied up in a rather stupid looking ponytail, but he gave the boy a point for the shiny black hair; two if it was natural. Evaluation complete, Varric gave a genuine, if ironic, laugh.  
"Nothing so sinister, messeres, I actually have a business proposal for the pair of you," He said, waiting for their reaction,  
"After Bartrand all but tossed us on our asses?" Carver retorted, (Thinking about it did Varric even have the elder Hawke's first name?). Varric noticed his glance down at his brother, a scowl on his face, "What do you actually want?"  
"I do have a proposal, Mother Tethras did not raise two stupid sons, we need someone like you two," Varric persisted, eyes earnest even as his smirk grew. Another glance at Hawke, a flutter of movement from the elder's hands and Varric had to grin. His hunch was right; Carver wasn't the brains, at all, thank the Maker, he was just a mouthpiece.  
"Seems like an awful lot of trouble for two guards," Carver translated, Varric gave him a nod.  
"That would be true, if we needed more guards but as Bartrand said we have offers coming out of our ears, no we don't need anymore." Carver took a breath, but the dwarf noticed that his brother simply waited, waving his brother to be still. "We need a new partner."  
Finally an actual reaction from the elder Hawke, the slim young man jerking as if the words had struck him, studying Varric with renewed curiosity. Even Junior, (as Varric decided to call him, since it was clear he dogged his elder brother's shadow, even if he acted like he had a noose around his neck.), looked shocked at the dwarf's statement. Varric waited, watching carefully, where was it... there, Hawke was using hand signs to speak to Junior, then Junior would interpret in his own words.  
"And what would such a venture cost? Would your brother actually want to share the profits?" If Varric could watch those signs a little longer, he'd have it cracked and wouldn't need Junior to talk, which felt like it would be a blessing with the way the taller human glared and snarled when he looked at the dwarf,  
"Truth is Bertrand's been tearing his beard out, trying to figure out how to pay for everything, if you come in as a partner it would not only make us very rich, but ensure we don't end up stuck high and dry in the middle of the Deep Roads." Varric said, as he ran a hand through his hair, and a sigh escaping him, this was turning into more work than he had anticipated, "Besides, the lead he had on an entrance to the Deep Roads dried up, so he has to find a new entrance, if we can get a map to the Deep Roads, Bartrand would have to agree on principle, he's not completely stupid, selfish and greedy yes, but not stupid." Varric shrugged knowing he was contradicting himself, but smiled when Hawke turned his head to the side, before signing to Junior again, his hands and fingers flowing into words that made Junior glower at his brother.  
"That doesn't answer the question about how much, and how are we supposed to find a map?" Varric rubbed the back of his neck, almost feeling self conscious. Hawke's gaze was definitely unnerving and the normally unflappable dwarf was beginning to feel the full weight of it.  
"Fifty sovereigns."  
"Fifty!? You must be insane! If we had that type of money we-" A yelp from Junior made Varric look at Hawke, he was standing still, his hand running impassively along his staff, with Junior rubbing his calf. It made Varric wonder if it was the staff, or a very well placed kick. Either way, he was impressed and he gave Hawke a grin.  
"I know its a lot of money, but believe me there are all sorts of jobs around Kirkwall and if we work together we can save that amount in no time." Sincerity was not Varric's strong suit, but he did mean it, and, while watching Hawke, swore the human's eyes softened, the intensity of his gaze lessened. Varric felt himself sigh, and a weight left him.  
"As for the map, I hear things, my ears are low enough to the ground that most things come to me eventually, and I've heard rumours there is a Gray Warden in town." He said with a slight grin, "And if you know anything about Gray Wardens, you know they traipse about the Deep Roads more than we dwarves, or at least most dwarves." He amended, then gave a wry grin, "But this Grey Warden is supposed to have a map." Hawke nodded then, and began to sign towards his brother, Varric watched carefully looking for the sign pattern... then cracked it, as Junior was shaking his head slightly,  
'This is the break we have been looking for, tell him we are in accord, already.' Junior looked mulish, shaking his head again, more obviously.  
"No need, serrah, one thing I've had to learn is how to read signs, and most common languages that might be used in trade... or other things." Both Hawkes looked at the dwarf merchant-prince in surprise, making Varric shrug, then looked at the elder Hawke with a wide grin, "Well, it is true." He then crossed his arms over his broad chest, smugly, "So what do you say, now?" Hawke considered the dwarf, his strange eyes seeming... amused? Almost delighted, in fact. He then moved, almost stiffly at first, and held his hands outward so the sign were clear,  
'We are agreed,' Varric began to grin again, then Hawke added 'Though I hope we don't come to regret this...' It made Varric laugh, Hawke had balls, clearly.  
"Hey, the knowledge you sign is worth a pretty coin to the Coterie, but I promise not to sell you out, we're going to be partners." Varric held his hand out, making the slim young man step back. It was then Varric could see, even with his face enshroud, that the elder Hawke was a broken young man, and the dwarf had to wonder, surprised at his own sadness seeing it, broken by what? But he gave a charming smile, "Besides, when we end up in the Deep Roads, if I double cross you, you'll be the first to know. And I'll be the last." Hawke's eyes remained wary, and he turned his head toward Junior, who scowled then snarled,  
"This is all your fault, anyway, so do what you want." With that the taller man turned and stormed away, no longer needed, leaving his elder brother, his shoulders visibly stiffening. Varric's brow knit at the display, but knew from his reports that this was common... it made the dwarf wonder how Hawke normally handled this, when he was left alone after Junior left in a huff, leaving him without a mouthpiece. Hawke gave a audible sigh, then straightened and looked at the dwarf, with tired eyes. Varric gave a disarming, and hopefully reassuring, smile and held his hand out once again.  
"It might be asking a lot, but you can trust me." Hawke tilted his head slightly, regarding Varric carefully with those almost hypnotic eyes before seeming to relax seeing something in Varric's gaze that appeared to reassure him, and grasped the rogue's hand, shaking it once. Varric grinned brightly, clapping the human's shoulder, making the young man stumble a bit, "Good man! How about heading to the Hanged Man with me and we'll iron out the details of our partnership, and have a pint to celebrate?" Hawke's fingers flowed,  
'You just want to see what's under the scarf,' Varric hoped it was a jest, as he couldn't hold back a laugh, even though it was true, before giving an innocent smile,  
"I assure you, messere, I only wish to drink to our new-found alliance." He said, trying to be the picture of dwarven innocence, and was rewarded with a muffled but actual snort of mirth. Hawke covered his mouth through his scarf to keep from being too loud, the muffled sound rather higher pitched than expected, in comparison to his brother's low tenor. Maybe that was why he needed someone to speak for him; his voice was too high to lend credence to his words. But watching the human, as they walked towards Low Town together, he quickly dismissed that theory, seeing the young man's nervousness at templars, but giving friendly waves and gestures to old allies and friends. Hawke, and not because of his brother, was well liked, politely giving Lady Elegant a bow, miming a kiss upon the fallen noble's hand which made the woman giggle. The longing in those strange eyes tugged at Varric's heartstrings, no if Hawke could talk, he would, no matter how silly his voice might sound.  
When they arrived at the Hanged Man, Varric ordered a pair of tankards filled with the piss-water they called ale to be delivered to his palatial suite. Varric gently placed Bianca in her rack, making a note to oil her later, then threw his duster onto its own hook, with practised ease. Settling in his favourite chair, he noticed Hawke wavering at the door, the young man's eyes taking in the dwarven room, taking note of any and all escape routes.  
"Make yourself at home, Hawke, my palatial suite is your palatial suite." Varric said kindly. Hawke looked at him again, then gave a single nod, moving to a seat facing the main entrance, carefully placing his glaive against the wall within reach before sitting down, and signing shortly,  
'Thank you.' Varric waved off the thanks, signing back,  
'Do not worry about it,' Then, as Norah came in with their drinks, said with a theatrical boom "Now then, my young new friend, lets us drink and enjoy for tomorrow -ugh- we work." He said with a visible shudder, grabbing the closet tankard. Norah scowled openly at Hawke and moved the tray away from him, turning her glare on Varric,  
"Master Tethras, this new lad cannot be old enough to drink, and if you think Corff will allow this, you have another thought coming." Varric coughed, and blinked in surprised, Hawke ducking his head slightly, as if embarrassed.  
"I swear to you, Norah, my dear, that this fine gentleman is at the least 18 winters old, considering his younger brother is allowed in the Blooming Rose." Varric said, noticing Hawke cover his face and slump in his seat, before signing at Varric, in a way that made the dwarf have to pay attention, to hide it from the bar maid,  
'If its going to be a problem, I will just accept a cider.' Varric ignored him, smiling still at Norah,  
"This is Hawke, my new business partner, Norah, we're hashing out things for our Deep Road's expedition." Norah started to shake her head then paused, looking at Hawke,  
"Hawke? As in Gamlen's nephew?" Now there was an audible groan from the young man, and he nodded stiffly, keeping his eyes covered; Norah, however, patted his other hand, making Hawke start, looking at the woman, "I don't blame that reaction, if you're his nephew, lad," She placed the tankard at easy reach, "Anyone who has to deal with that pissant deserves a pint paid for Master Tethras." Hawke gave an exaggerated shrug, nodding his thanks and Norah took her leave. Varric chuckled, sipping at his ale,  
"If you had batted those fancy eyes of yours, she might've given you the pint without charging me anything." A snort answered him, making him grin behind the tankard. "Can't blame a dwarf from trying,"  
'Might as well try to stop him from drinking,' Hawke signed, in retort, his eyes aglow with amusement. Varric had to laugh, almost spilling his ale in the process,  
"Oh, you I like." He said with a grin, lifting his tankard to the human. Hawke's eyes gleamed, lifting his in turn, before looking at the door, seeming to be debating. Varric's smile never wavered, as he asked carefully, not wanting to show his curiosity, "Want me to bolt it, so you can drink without that scarf?" Several long minutes passed before Hawke gave a single nod, before signing,  
'Might as well get the whole mess out in the open.' Varric nodded, and with a sigh moved off his chair to close the door, bolting it firmly, mentally preparing him-self for another ugly human, even if he had attractive eyes. What he found when he turned around was not what he expected.  
Shaggy black-tipped silver hair spilt out in all directions, momentarily covering Hawke's face, as the scarf was carefully unwound. At first uncertain gold and blue eyes shined out from moonlight touched hair, then the gaze hardened, and with a firm hand, the tresses were pulled roughly away, revealing a pale, feminine face, angular nose, and soft lips set into a hard line. Varric openly gaped at the woman that sat before him, challenge written on her face, her chin lifted in defiance. But the dwarf also noted a tremble at her chin, her eyes becoming cool but wary; she looked like she would leave him knocked out cold leaving no memory of the attractive young woman, if he wasn't careful. He could tell she was very tired of running, and chose to trust him. It was only then that he noticed. Small red and white runes were tattooed over her throat and, on her chin, was the templar mark most commonly seen on Tranquil's foreheads.  
Giving himself a harsh shake, Varric moved back to his chair, but instead of sitting, drank the rest of his ale in one draught,  
"I need something stronger, how about you?" Hawke shook her head slowly, her hands knotted in her scarf, almost angrily twisting it. Varric shrugged, and went to his private store, pulling out a bottle of dwarven ale and poured it into the now empty tankard. Only after taking a long swig did he sit down again, refilling his tankard. He sat back, then, studying the young woman, who looked at him like a beaten dog might; cautiously hopefully but ready to snap or flee. "Are you able to cast spells still?" He asked, not knowing if it was a wise thing to ask, but curiosity was always his weakness. Hawke blinked and gave a half-smile, nodding in reply.  
Varric took another slow drink, watching the young human. Maker she almost looked half-elven, but had none of the signs for such a union. The story behind Hawke was going to itch at him terribly now, unusual eyes were one thing, but having hair like she did wasn't normal either. It would have reached him if someone was looking for such a dye or spell. It would not come cheap either. Hawke finally took a pull from her ale, before holding it tight between her hands making her knuckles turn white.  
"Mind if I ask you what happened?" Varric finally asked, able to focus a bit better now. Hawke looked at him, and smiled crookedly, signing openly,  
'Ask away, if you do not mind a sob story.' It made the dwarf smile, it was good to know she did still have sass.  
"So what happened, a Mother try to bless you and do it wrong?" Hawke gave a grin, starting to laugh, but it was like someone put their fingers into his ears, the sound disappearing before it really started. She covered her mouth, and looked apologetic.  
'Sorry, I know that is disconcerting.' She signed slowly, before sighing, 'As you guessed, I am a mage. My father and sister were mages as well, Father used to be a Circle Mage but ran away with our Mother to live as Apostates. We moved from place to place when it seemed the local templars were getting suspicious. Once... we were not fast enough.' Her hands stilled, her face dark and looked like she remembered too clearly what happened.  
Varric could not help it, he reached over and patted her hand in sympathy. Blue fire flashed in her palm, Hawke's eyes wild making the dwarf hold his hands up to show he meant no harm. Hawke blinked owlishly, extinguishing her fire. She looked at her hands, her face a picture of remorse, then started to sign again,  
'Its... Harder to control, as its now based solely on desire and instinct instead of the focus that words add.' Varric nodded his understanding, keeping his hands around his tankard, now. Hawke took a breath, then continued to sign, 'This... was an experiment, done by Templars. They caught me, an apostate, and attempted to seal my magic without turning me Tranquil. Apparently someone decided that they wanted mages who wouldn't need a nursemaid if something happened. Demons are not as much of a worry, true, they apparently like voices to scream in the end. And I can protect myself, but magic...' Her hands wavered in indecision, then signed slowly, 'Magic remains, as long as the tie to the Fade does. They only stole my voice, though it took me years to control everything again. My Father taught my siblings and I how to talk to each other again, with signs, lip reading, and new spells. Mother, Father, Bethany, and I hardly ever had to use signs to talk, with the spells Father worked out. Carver, well, he does not like magic.' She paused to drink, before staring at the stone hanging, unseeing, a sad smile on her face, 'Now my sister, Bethany, she was also a mage, pretty, sweet, she was as adorable as a fawn. Could not hurt a fly, she'd let them go outside, letting three more in... and she had to be the one to charge an ogre.' Varric then plucked the ale out of her hands, gently, smiling slightly,  
"So... let me guess, you don't drink a lot?" Hawke shook her head, and hiccuped, covering her mouth again, her odd eyes wide. Varric had to grin slightly, cupping his chin in his hand. "How about you hide your face again, Hawke, and I'll go get you some water? Sober you up a bit?" She nodded, shamefaced, eyes teary, looking at the scarf that Varric handed to her, and burst into proper tears. "Shit..." Varric cursed, then awkwardly stood, and patted her back, he was never very good with sad drunks. Or crying women. Both in one lady was akin to hell on earth. But she was going to be his partner, and, from what he got out of it, she needed someone to talk to over the burdens she carried. As long as she didn't make a habit of this, he'd give her that comfort. Hawke gave a sob, before nodding at him to say she was alright, and actually managed to whisper,  
"Thanks, Varric." He was surprised by her voice, it wasn't strained or rough sounding, it was actually rather pleasant, rich, perfectly pitched alto even if she was struggling with tears. It didn't seem like a voice that hadn't been used in years. He must have looked confused because a slight smile crossed her face, as she wiped her tears, then signed, 'A loophole in the magic. High emotion lets my voice break through the seal. Ironic, yes? The worst part is I can hear myself talk, or laugh, but it echoes in my ears. Others can hear just a word, a note, a single sound, and that's it. I do not laugh much because, as Carver put it, it sounds like the noise is strangled to silence, that and its creepy.' Varric frowned at her, before saying honestly,  
"You know, I'm beginning to really dislike your brother." Hawke snorted slightly, then Varric raised an eyebrow at her, leaning against the table, "And you must process alcohol really quickly." This time she did laugh, but sadly the sound ended up swallowed up by the seal on her throat. She caught herself and covered her mouth, looking apologetic, he waved at her, smiling, "Stop being sorry for something you can't help, it is not your fault. Though I have to say I've not seen someone go that drunk to flat sober that quickly, well save a couple gentlemen who ended up messing around with the wrong girl." Hawke grinned slightly,  
'Benefits of my magic, it burns through alcohol and toxins quickly.' Varric tapped his chin thoughtfully at that, his honey-brown eyes a twinkle,  
"In-ter-esting... I'm sure we can use that to get some information. And enjoy a drink to boot."Hawke raised an ebony eyebrow at him,  
'How do we get around the fact I can not drink through my scarf?' She asked, eyeing him, the dwarf grinned, sitting down in his chair, again.  
"Have you thought about, actually not hiding your face? Except while on errands?" Hawke looked at him blankly, and pointed to the mark on her face. But Varric waved a dismissive hand, "You never heard of make-up?" Hawke frowned,  
'My sister and mother tried before, I can not stand the stuff.' Varric just grinned more,  
"But think, you could have a secret identity and actually be able to TALK to people." Hawke tilted her head, considering, "And if I weave a sad enough tale, even if make-up can't cover the seal, people won't ask you about it, and it'll get to a point everyone will just rather not talk about it." Hawke raised an eyebrow,  
'What sort of tale, I get enough pitying looks from my mother.' She pointed out, Varric grinned and waved a hand,  
"The typical story that pulls at everyone's heartstrings but just make people like us gag, or laugh. Oh! I know! Templar betrothed that was tragically murdered by a mage he was protecting, and in sorrow you placed the mark of Andraste upon your flesh and gave a vow of silence, swearing that your voice was only for the love you lost." A most unladylike snort escaped Hawke, and she stuck her tongue out at Varric unable to hide her grin.  
'You are a horrible, horrible, little man, I think we are going to get on like a house on fire.' Varric's laugh shook dust from the rafters. She grinned, sitting back in her seat, and shook her head, silver hair glinting. It was... distracting. It took Varric by surprise, how he ended up staring at her hair. He shook himself, and pushed his own drink away, if he was getting such thoughts about his new partner, no more drinking. But he plastered a grin on his face, and leaned forward,  
"Well, then, partner, what do you say? Shall we figure out a way to allow-" Varric stopped suddenly, frowning as he tried to remember her first name, did he have it yet? She looked amused, and signed, letter by letter, her actual name,  
'Aylin. Its Aylin. But my father used this sign when he was talking to me.' She then moved her hand over her face, in the typical sign for a full moon, but with her hand forming an 'A'. Varric's mind turned the new information over, sitting back with his hands pressed together on his chest, staring at the fire. Noticing Hawke shifting uncomfortably he gave a distracted smile, then ran a hand through his hair.  
"Sorry, Hawke, must've drunk a bit more then I had intended, I get a bit contemplative when I drink too much." He sighed and shook himself, moving to his bed area and grabbing some blank contracts as well as parchment and a few quills and an ink stone. At her confused look he gave a lopsided grin, "Have to get a contract, make sure we know exactly what to expect with this venture. And if we have a contract, Bartrand will be less argumentative, at least with you." He added with a wider grin, Hawke nodded slowly then signed almost hesitantly,  
'But... while you are drunk?' Varric waved away the concern, using some water from his bedside pitcher to wet the ink stone.  
"I'm a dwarf, I work better drunk!" He then passed the blank parchment over to Hawke, as well as half the quills and placed a pair of spectacles upon his nose, "That's for you to write notes on, because when I get to writing contracts I can blank out everything, depending on circumstances. And, for now, this is the best circumstances there are, so I'm probably going to forget you're here. Voice or signs." Hawke gave a grin, nodding in understanding, waving him to his paper while trimming one of the quills.  
Some time later, Varric yawned widely, stretching back and noticed hazily that sunlight was starting to stream in. It had taken them the whole night, but they had a completely binding contract for their up incoming venture. A pile of mark covered paper was to his left side, showing he'd read them, with Hawke on his right, her head laying on her scarf, eyes closed, her breathing even. He studied the almost angelic face of the strange young woman beside him, his mind wondering to everything he had learned about her during the night, and realized then, he was in trouble.  
Aylin Hawke was a passionate and spirited about things important to her. She started out a bit hesitant, but as the night had worn on,Varric had ended up with his arm being punched when he didn't read a note fast enough. He glanced at his arm thinking about it, and gave an ironic shake seeing actual bruises. Bruises! From such a tiny thing too! She had an easy grin, though years of beratement had made her laugh harder to come by, but Varric had been rewarded with a full bodied guffaw at one point. She ended up laughing so hard she'd fallen from her chair, even though it was completely silent it made him laugh along. Hawke also ended up being just as sassy and sarcastic as he had thought she was. She could always answer back any of his quips with something just as snide, if not more so. She proved not just to be quick, but intelligent as well, pointing out new laws to him that applied to the contract they worked out.  
Varric released a breath through his nose, rubbing his eyes. Maker, was he tired. He was glad Hawke had asked to send a message to her mother, with the way they were working it would have been a unmitigated disaster if Carver had come hunting for her. Hawke had already had Varric swear not to tell Junior that he knew she was a woman, quite yet. Junior, even though he blamed Hawke for everything that had happened to them, saw himself as the head of house... and thus his older sister's protector. To say Varric found this ironic, was an understatement, but could tell she was telling the truth. The amount of sarcasm, exaggerated movements, and eye rolls told him that.  
Varric sighed, moving to his bed, then paused, gazing longingly at the blankets, and cosy pillows that were beckoning to him. He groaned loudly, cursing his sense of propriety. Grumbling, he dragged his feet over to where Hawke slept against the table, and shook her shoulder gently. When she barely even stirred, he groaned again, then slipped his arm under her knees, and lifted her into his arms. She shifted a bit, giving him a moment's pause, before she snuggling into him, sighing in her sleep against his chest hair. A shiver ran up his spine, at the soft breath, and the overtired dwarf mentally scolded himself, again. _She's not your type, Tethras! Not curvy enough!_ He told himself, as he carefully placed the sleeping woman into his bed. He shoved away a temptation to sleep on the bed, on the covers, knowing that would be testing their new-found alliance far too much. Instead he tucked her in, gently, then snagged one of his throws and, with a grump, moved to his chair, made himself as comfortable as possible and just tried to sleep...  
But of course, true sleep would not come. Varric barely dozed, jerking awake anytime he heard someone outside his door, which was not normal for him. So when Hawke yelped, and threw his blankets all over trying to escape from her comfortable nest, he almost cried. She stared at him, well across the room, and he gave an almost miserable wave, before actually really seeing her. It was enough to make him forgive her on the spot for throwing everything off, in a panic. Her self-cut hair was on end, her mismatched eyes wide and almost heartbroken, her hand covering her mouth seeing the dwarf in his stone chair. She suddenly released a breath, then padded to him and touched his shoulder with a small smile.  
'Thanks Varric.' She signed, before looking around, signing still, 'I better get home, and let you get some sleep. I will get you in a few hours, Aveline wanted to talk to me soon anyway and I am not sure how she will handle meeting you quite yet.' Varric gave a dry chuckle,  
"No problem, I'll be a perfect gentleman with the guardswoman." Hawke shook her head, smiling at him,  
'No, be yourself, maybe she will stop trying to get me to join.' She gave a visible shudder at the idea, making him laugh,  
"Maker, Hawke, why do I have the feeling you're going to be the death of me?" They grinned at each other, then Hawke turned, and grabbed her scarf. Varric's smile died, watching the thick scarf cover those gentle features, and that moon touched hair. He tugged one of his thick, gold earrings in frustration, thinking how unfair it was that she thought she had to hide herself like this. His eyes ended up wandering over her frame as she donned her jacket, and found himself distracted by the shapely rump, that was thankfully, if sadly covered by her over robe within moments. He had to bite down a sigh, and forced himself to look away again. He was just overtired, that's all. And probably overdue for a visit to the Blooming Rose, himself.  
Hawke touched his arm again, jerking him from his half trance, and Varric blinked up at the transformed Hawke, sleepily. She was completely covered and hidden, and Varric let himself relax, seeing her in her man's gear, smiling at the human mage. She lightly flicked his nose, her eyes amused,  
'Get some sleep, Varric, I will see you later.' Hawke then gave a teasing salute, picking up her glaive, and leaving the room, closing the door behind her. Varric found himself staring after the human, and realizing how empty and cold his room had become with her gone. He scowled to himself, Andraste's arse, Tethras, you just met her! He stood with a loud groan, and moved towards his bed, flopping face first into the pillows. Then immediately regretted it, as Hawke's scent flooded his senses. He growled into the pillow, before deciding to take care of one pressing issue at a time.


	3. Chapter 2: Varric does the Talking

**Chapter Two**

 _Varric does the Talking_

When Hawke finally did come to see him, the sun had started past its zenith, and Varric felt like a new man after taking care of his personal needs as well as getting some sleep into him. Carver was less then pleased to see him, and Aveline was mostly unimpressed by the sight of the roguish dwarf, even with his fantastic chest hair. But she was surprised to find that he could communicate with Hawke without the need of Carver, or her mother translating.  
"I wonder if I could learn to actually speak with you." The guardswoman said almost wistfully, green eyes almost sad. Hawke made a show of sheepishness, ducking her head so her eyes almost vanished behind her thick scarf. Varric raised an inquiring eyebrow at her, wondering if Aveline knew Hawke was a woman, or anything about her situation at all. Hawke noticed the look and made a sign for later. She then looked at Carver, and the young man scowled at her, saying snidely,  
"What do you need me for? You have someone else who can talk for you." Varric could tell the comment wasn't the first of the day, Aveline sighing tiredly and Hawke's eyes turning dull. But Hawke simply turned her back on her brother, and signed to Varric,  
'You know where we have to go for the Gray Warden, but Aveline also has a few errands for us. Looks like you were right about finding all sorts of jobs in this city.' She paused a moment, then gave a audible sigh, and signed again, almost hesitantly, 'And by the end of the week, I have to go to Sundermont, to fulfil a promise I made to get here.' That perked Varric's curiosity, Hawke hadn't mentioned anything about Sundermont in all of their talks last night.  
"Oh no, if you're going to do that, count me out! I don't care if she did help us, I'm not going anywhere near where that witch wanted us to go!" Carver suddenly snapped, glowering down at Hawke. Hawke in turn stared up at her brother, her hands twitching a moment, her eyes hard.  
"I'd prefer not to go to Sundermont, myself, Hawke, I don't like the idea of messing with the Witch of the Wilds." Aveline said, carefully, her brow knitted at the thought. Hawke's eyes widened under her scarf and hood, looking at the guardswoman in surprise. She then shook her head, her shoulders slumping visibly, before signing,  
'We made a promise.' Varric couldn't help himself, patting her arm comfortingly, and whispering,  
"Hey, if nothing else, you'll have me? I can cheer you on while you take care of things. But you'll owe me the whole story... and a pint." A snort was his only answer, but she straightened and folded her arms over her chest, looking at the two warriors square on before signing, visibly.  
'I made a promise, and I will keep it. With or without your help.' After translating to Aveline what was said both warriors looked ill at ease, but decided to drop it for now.  
Varric simply hummed to himself, watching the dynamics of the trio. Hawke was clearly the leader of the little band, how anyone couldn't see that, he didn't know. It was clear there was a fierce competition between the Hawke siblings, though, and Aveline also seemed to be on the fence between the two more then what was strictly necessary. It seemed the tall, redhead just didn't know how to handle the "disadvantaged" elder Hawke, while Junior clearly raised her ire with his aggressive nature. With the addition

of the dwarf, who could actually understand Hawke without Junior translating everything (and adding his own venom), the balance seemed to have been swayed. A slow grin covered the dwarf's features. The story here was one he could not, as a writer, resist. He could easily write a story about the Hawke's adventures, as a separate but fond third party. And if he kept that thought in mind, he'd be able to stop the troublesome thoughts that had kept him awake so long, last night.  
Decisions made, Varric excused himself and wondered to his palatial suite to collect his duster and Bianca. While buckling everything on, the dwarf heard the telling squeak he kept for would be assassins and thieves, and swung around Bianca aimed at Carver's scowling face. The young human's eyes flashed in anger, his hand against a dagger in his belt. Varric didn't move, or relax his stance, just raised an eyebrow,  
"Something I can help you with..?" He asked, conversationally, keeping his gaze level. He didn't think Hawke would appreciate him wounding her brother, but wasn't going to let the human lay a hand on him either. Carver's nose flared in anger, narrowing his eyes at the dwarf,  
"I don't know what you're playing at, and I don't know what's in it for you, but I really don't care. But I'm going to warn you once, dwarf. Stay away from my sister. Varric blinked in surprise at the young man, taken aback by the vehemence, as well as the protective nature of the words. Considering that was the whole plan, anyway, it too much of his willpower to keep from biting back.  
"That's interesting, for you to say that, Junior. Since, after all, you were the one to leave her alone, all night, with just me and a bottle of ale. Carver's face darkened and he snarled, lunging for the dwarf who suddenly was no longer there. The rogue tripped the tall young man, causing him to sprawl on the floor, and planted his boot against the back of the human's neck, Bianca resting at the back of his skull. At the very least Carver decided not to move when he felt Varric's crossbow. Varric glowered down at the boy, wrinkling his nose in distaste, "Do you really think your sister would trust just anyone with the knowledge of what happened to her? Do you really think she would even let me know she was a woman, without deciding I would hold her secret? I am trying to help both of us, Junior, now stop being a damned prick and stop making me act like I'm responsible. With that Varric holstered Bianca, and left Carver on the floor, shaking his head irritably as he left his rooms. Hawke was leaning against the stairwell, watching him as he walked closer. Varric raised an eyebrow at her, and the young mage made a show of rolling her eyes, making him grin, before she signed,  
'He was not too much of an arse?'  
"Didn't get the chance."  
'Good.' She straightened, glancing back at the open door, seeing Carver slowly get up. She quickly moved away, so her brother wouldn't know she had seen his humiliation, with Varric falling into step beside her.  
"How'd he know, by the way?" He asked, conversationally, as they met Aveline by the Hanged Man's main door. Aveline was talking to some of her fellow guards, and didn't seem in too much of a hurry, so they made themselves comfortable while waiting for Carver to show himself. After several moments, she finally looked down at him, then sighed softly, signing, as she glowered towards one of the 'windows' watching the room being painted a rusty orange.  
' Had to explain why I was out all night, without someone to translate, see protect.' Varric snorted at the end, having to grin. She shook her head, ironically, then looked at Varric again, 'Thanks for going easy on him, mother would never forgive me if something happened to him.' Varric smiled a troubled smile, but decided not to ask. For now, anyway.  
Carver finally made an appearance, pointedly ignoring Varric's very existence, and they waved Aveline over, before finally heading into Lowtown. Aveline wanted them to head to the Wounded Coast, to take care of some brigands. They first made a stop at Lirene's Ferelden Imports, as Varric's resources said that's where they could find the location of their Gray Warden.  
Lirene recognized the siblings and Aveline, as fellow Ferelden expats, while Varric was a Kirkwall icon. However, recognition did not mean trust, and Carver had apparently decided if Hawke was going to bring Varric along, then he would be her mouthpiece. Varric didn't know whether to be annoyed or amused.  
"We're just wanting to ask some questions of the Gray Warden, that's all." Varric said, feeling tired all of the sudden. Lirene scowled at them, even as she was taking orders, and giving instructions. The dwarf found himself admiring the older woman's multitasking skills.  
"He's a good man, a healer, and I won't be letting anyone bother him, he's done too much for us." She said firmly.  
"We're not going to hurt the Warden, serrah, even if he does sound too good to be true..." Varric muttered the end, earning a nod from the mage beside him.  
"The answer is still, no." Hawke looked at the woman, then, having been standing to the side, hands only where Varric could see them. Those eerie mismatched eyes stared at Lirene, but from the angle where Varric was standing, it was impossible to see the look in Hawke's eyes. He also decided he didn't want to, when the older woman started to pale.  
"They're wanting to talk to him as a Gray Warden, not as... well, it doesn't matter. Let him deal with them, and get them out of our shop." Her assistant then piped up, making Hawke look at her. Lirene released a breath, then nodded slowly,  
"Alright... alright, he's running a clinic down in Darktown, tucked away in the corner, look for a single lantern, if its lit, he's in. Now get out of my store." Hawke bowed to the women, and led them out to the street, where Varric released a whistle,  
"That was impressive, Hawke, never seen someone like that bend with just a look." Carver scowled at the dwarf,  
"It was stupid, and risky, and she only gave us the information because of her assistant." Aveline rubbed the back of her neck, sighing,  
"And it seems your Grey Warden is a bit more then just a normal healer, that's something I didn't need to know about." Hawke shrugged at all of them, not looking at them, her eyes hidden in the shadows of her hood.  
"Oy! You lot!" A group of Ferelden refugees made them stop in their tracks. All of them men, with frowns and glares, some with hand tools, others with proper weapons. The speaker was the largest of the lot, with a naked sword in his hand.  
"Great... thanks a lot..." Varric heard Carver mutter to his sister,  
"Not now, Carver." Aveline whispered, uneasily. Hawke didn't seem to react, save to nod to Varric. He put a friendly grin on his face, silently cursing the young man behind him.  
"Greetings, gentlemen, is there something we can help you with?" The dwarf asked, taking a relaxed posture against the fighting stances the men were taking.  
"We heard you asking about the healer. What's he to you?" The speaker of the group demanded, Varric kept Hawke's hands at the corner of his gaze, and answered lightly,  
"What does it matter, my friends? Do you not recognize your fellow Ferelden kin? Who, like you, has had to work from the bottom up?" He asked in almost chiding tones. The refugees shifted uneasily at that, and Varric continued his line. "We're all on the same side here, all we want is to talk to the former Gray Warden. We certainly don't want to see such a well respected man harmed, in any way." The men looked at themselves, then dispersed, waving to the group. Everyone let out a sigh of relief, and Hawke clasped Varric's shoulder, her eyes smiling as she signed,  
'Thanks, Varric.' He chuckled, waving off her thanks,  
"This is starting to become a habit." He said instead, as they continued down the dirt streets, then glanced up at Hawke when he saw they weren't heading for the city gates to the Wounded Coast, "The clinic first?" Aveline made a disapproving noise behind them, but Hawke nodded.  
'We can hunt bandits in the dark easier, and I do not see the point of risking Darktown at night.' She gestured with a shrug, Varric translated to Aveline who gave a reluctant sigh,  
"Hawke's right, unfortunately, the guard has no jurisdiction down there, its not safe when the sun is up, its definitely not safe during the night." She said, grumpily, moving her shield to her arm, in response. Hawke slid her glaive out of its clasp, and walked down into the old slave pens of Kirkwall, where only the most desperate or most wicked call their domain...


	4. Chapter 3: Varric versus the Seeker

**Chapter 3**

 _Varric versus the Seeker_

"Dwarf!" Varric started, hand slipping his watch back in its hidden pocket, before he even realized who or what was yelling at him. How long had he been just remembering everything? He had told the Seeker so many times an editted version of events, but for once it felt natural to sink into what really had happened. But it no longer mattered. Cassandra Pendegrast threw open the door, causing it to bang against the stone wall, and nearly, hit her again. Varric put on his normal casual smirk, spreading his hands,

"Seeker! What may I do for you, now? Or have you come to let me know I'm free to go?" He asked, in companionable tones. The dark skinned woman scowled, and it was only then that he noticed that she had her helm under one arm, and that damned book of hers under the other. She dumped both on the table in front of him, making him raise an eyebrow, "Isn't this where we started? Or do I have to repeat the entire thing, for what? The fifth time?" He asked, rolling his eyes.

"Why? Do you have somewhere, or someone to meet?" The Seeker asked, her sharp eyes narrowing at him. Varric, as he had to do since the beginning, schooled his features to look bored and amused,

"Of course I do! I have an entire merchant empire that's been shattered and needs to be reorganized, not to mention my publisher was pushing me to send in another chapter of the new Hard in Hightown, plus now I get to actually buy the Hanged Man, what with Corff and Nora fleeing into the Free Marches after the mages tore a hole into the side of the building."

"Hmph, so you say. I recieved word, that the apostate has been seen, leading a group of wayward mages further into the Marches." He raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to get to the point. She scowled more, tapping a scroll against her book, "You and the apostate are the only ones we can find, and, so far, the apostate has evaded my men." Good work, Blondie... Varric thought, folding his hands over his chest, in a show of boredom, "So you will be joining me."

"What?" The question left him, before he could restrain himself, and Cassandra gave a small smirk of her own, dark eyes studying the actual surprise on his face. It took everything not to actually let her see how anger he was, as well.

"I have someone who should hear your tale, as well. So, you will put aside your plans of expansion and will be coming with me." He actually scowled at her, hands gripping his chair in an attempt to conceal their shaking,

"And if I refused..?" She smiled, mock sweetly, standing straight,

"You will be brought in chains." Varric stared at her, watching as she turned and opened the door to allow two guards into the room. She looked at him, again, her smile wicked, "So, what shall it be, dwarf?" She, once again, stretched out the word. He could not keep the anger from his eyes, every inch of him quivvering with rage. How DARE this fucking Seeker threaten him! This damned stupid bitch was wanting to keep him under lock and key! Keep him away from his- no! Fuck you, Tethras, don't think about her, right now!

"Alright, Seeker, have it your way." He growled through clenched teeth. She almost seemed disappointed, but smiled at him, in that humorless way,

"Very good, I shall expect you to be ready to leave within the hour." She turned away, then paused at the door, "Oh, and Varric?" The first time she had actually called him by name, he did not like it, "Any communications that you send, will be monitered, and the Right Hand of the Divine happens to be one of the best coder breakers in all of Thedas." He stared at her, as she left him behind, the door slamming again. This time relief did not spread through him, and he did not relax. He felt cold.

The guards led him to his "room", in all actuality a cell that they had moved everything he was allowed to bring. Bianca was still kept in the armory, under strict instructions that Varric was only allowed to have her in direst circumstance. He had the feeling he was not going to get her back until something else stung the Seeker and she forgot all about him. He thumped his head against the door, eyes closed and sighed, his heart sore. Damn her...

"Damn her!" He hissed, throwing his fist against the hard wood, before sighing and turning to place his back against his door, and slid to the floor, raking his hands through his hair. "Aylin..." He whispered, closing his eyes, and allowing the memories to come, if only for a little while...


	5. Chapter 4: Varric Meets Blondie

**Chapter 4**

 _Varric meets a Warden_

"Ahhh... the stench of hopelessness and shattered dreams." Varric intoned as they entered the below ground tunnels of Darktown. Hawke and Carver had been down in the tunnels many times while they were "working" for Athenian's smugglers, hence how the pair ended up on Varric's radar. They made their mark in the slums, and Varric admittedly was keen to see how they actually managed. They moved carefully, trying to avoid the largest pools of chokedamp vapours as much as possible.  
'It smells a lot like piss and shit.' Hawke signed to Varric, making him grin,  
"Of course, my dear Hawke! Everyone knows shit and piss are the by-products of lost hope and vomit the result of dreams long broken." He replied drily, and was answered with an amused snort.  
"Really... are you two really having a conversation about human waste?" Aveline asked, incredulously, staring down at the strawberry blonde dwarf. Varric gave a laugh, holding a hand up, with the other on his heart,  
"Shit you not, guardswoman, we are indeed talking about shit." Hawke suddenly signed to him, and Varric grinned, adding, "And broken dreams." Aveline shook her head, looking bewildered, then said quietly,  
"I really have to learn these signs..." Hawke's shoulders shook in silent laughter, then she came up short, her glaive moving protectively in front of her brother as several men melted from the shadows. These didn't bother with introductions, and simply attacked. The quickest of the lot ended up nearly being skewered by Hawke's weapon, even as Carver moved past her to pull his greatsword from its sheath. The younger Hawke snarled in anger, and swung his weapon towards the next foe, scowling but not even blinking as the gigantic sword was suddenly wreathed in fire.  
"I can do it by myself!" He shouted towards his sister, who was blocking dagger strikes with her staff-weapon. A crossbow bolt hit her opponent right between the eyes, and she gave a twirl around her-self sending out bolts of light to hit three different enemies, glancing back at Varric. He simply saluted her with a grin, Bianca firing bolt after bolt into a heavily armoured brute. Hawke stepped back then, and, her staff floating in front of her, sent out a shard of ice that struck the armoured fighter's shield. The man nearly collapsed at the weight dragged him down, then gave a wail when the ice spread covering him before he could even move. The icicle man shattered, and there was no one else to fight, Aveline pulling her sword from the gut of one man, while Carver gripped the long hilt of his sword, looking around for anyone else to fight.  
Hawke stood completely still several moments, and Varric, after inspecting Bianca, looked at her curiously. She then walked to Carver, her gloved hand glowing faintly, but he pushed her away, glaring at her, a gash in his cheek seeping blood.  
"Mother somebody else." He snapped, but Hawke grabbed his shoulder tightly, Varric saw the wince on Carver's face, then pressed her fingers against his cheek bone. The young man growled, the cut healing within moments, then broke free of her grasp, giving her a hard shove that made her stumble back. "I don't need your magic to come to my rescue for everything, you know." He told her darkly, moving further down the tunnel, slipping the greatsword back into his sheath. Hawke's head followed him, gripping her glaive tight, and Varric glanced at the troubled looking Aveline,  
"This normal?" He asked quietly, she nodded slowly, saying bitterly.  
"Too normal." The red-headed woman sighed, looking down at the dwarf, "But also a bit more..." She paused, trying to organize her thoughts,  
"Violent? Aggressive? Awkward?" Varric supplied, Hawke finally coming over to them, Aveline shook her head, frowning, and Hawke sighed, fixing her scarf a bit more tightly over her face, before signing,  
'He is shutting me out.'  
"Rebellious, that's the word I was looking for." Aveline said at the same time. Hawke nodded slowly, keeping her eyes hidden in her hood. Varric decided he disliked that hood as much as the scarf covering her features, but simply scratched his head,  
"Well, should we catch up with him?" Hawke hesitated, then nodded, moving forward, Aveline looked down at him, frowning, and started to open her mouth, but apparently thought better of it, and simply followed after the siblings. Varric breathed out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck,  
"What have you gotten you're self into, now, Tethras?"

Following the warren like tunnels, they came to a crossroads, and turned to the left, downward leading. They had come across Carver in the middle of another fight, and though he didn't thank any of them for saving his neck, he stopped snapping at his sister. Even when she had to heal his leading arm after a rather skilled cut-throat managed to slice into his elbow. He fell into ignoring everyone, instead. Hawke shook her head, and, with Carver's back to them, started signing, several, dozen colourful names for him. It was all Varric could do, not to burst out laughing. Aveline, just stared at the two, looking left out. Anytime Varric might've explained though, Carver glared back, causing the dwarf to suddenly cough, or whistle.  
'The smell of broken dreams getting to you?' Hawke signed, after the third time, Varric grinned, and said drily,  
"Think its actually the smell of long forsaken cesspits."  
"Again with the human waste?" Aveline asked, incredulously, looking actually appalled at the dwarf. Varric laughed, and even heard the start of a laugh from Hawke. Then the mage suddenly tapped Varric's shoulder, pointing down the harbour exposed side of Darktown. At the end of one of the supposed "bridges", an actually wooden wall stood, protecting the inhabitants from the weather, but also making it a target for the unscrupulous. There, between two doors, hung a shining lantern.  
'The light within the darkness, shall lead me home.' Varric had to translate, once again, but this time, Aveline's eyes seemed to shine.  
"Wesley used to say that," Varric raised an eyebrow at the guardswoman, but she just waved the look away. Hawke led the way towards the lantern, and they all noticed the closer they grew, the less chokedamp they had to avoid. Even Varric had an easier time breathing. But they also noticed the lack of vagrants, even criminals seemed to avoid the area around the clinic. But Varric was surprised to see Hawke put her glaive in its harness on her back,  
'If we go in, armed and prepared for a fight, we will get it. This is a former Gray Warden.' Hawke explained, moving to the front, making sure Carver stepped back, ignoring the glare it earned her. Hawke opened the left-hand door, and they moved into what turned out to be a clinic.  
The actually moderately large room was full of cots or tables, all dressed in fairly clean bedding, with curtains around a couple. There was a heavy smell of cleansing herbs, runes against sickness inscribed on pretty much every surface. Towards the back were another two doors, one completely blocked with rubble and debris, but the other leading into a back room.  
In the middle of the room, between two wooden supports, was a central bed, where a couple stood staring at whatever laid in the bed. Beyond them, was a tall, and rather scrawny looking human man, leaning over the apparent patient, his eyes closed and a bit sunken looking. Sweat poured down his high forehead, his dirty blonde hair escaping the half ponytail it had been in, his brows furrowed, and a glow surrounding his hands. He suddenly stumbled, his mouth moving into a grimace, leaning heavily against the table. On the table, a young boy gasped loudly, and sat up, rubbing his head. The man and woman both gave a cry, and all but crushed the boy between them, thanking the healer with sobs and promises of everything they could give. The healer gave a weary smile, waving away the thankful parents and stumbled towards a solitary work table on the side of the blocked door, his back to them.  
Hawke moved forward then, hands clenched at her sides, and Varric noticed then, that she seemed nervous about meeting the Grey Warden. He came up beside her, and she looked down at him, her eyes glowing in her hood, before relaxing her hands. But before she could sign, or he could even try to introduce them, the healer suddenly grabbed a proper staff, his eyes flashing a strange blue as he stared at them. Hawke held up her empty hands, as did the dwarf beside her,  
"Who are you? You're not wounded, or sick, you look too well off to be seeking aide. Your not templars, even if the woman in the back has a templar's shield. You're not with the Wardens' are you? I won't go back with the Wardens." He said vehemently, both Hawke and Varric just stared at him. Varric heard Aveline shift uncomfortably, and glanced back at her, it was the first time he had noticed that she wore a templar's shield and looked at her. She scowled back and mouthed,  
"Not now!" Hawke thumped his shoulder then, and he turned his attention to her, but with her hands up, she didn't want to start signing so clearly, so instead Varric smiled disarmingly at the healer,  
"So you are the Warden, oh good, we're not with the Wardens no. Personally find myself not interested in the whole respectable order thing." The healer seemed to believe him, putting his staff to his side, in a more relaxed stance. A tired, yet relieved breath came from him, and both Hawke and Varric took this opportunity to put down their hands.  
"Good. I can't stand those bastards, they made me get rid of my cat." He gazed at his staff, almost absently, and murmured " Poor Ser Pounce-a-lot, how he hated the Deep Roads."

Varric wasn't the only one who had to ask, seeing Hawke's hands move to form the same question,  
"You took a cat into the Deep Roads?" The healer looked at him, his eyes dark brown, almost black, save for the flicker of blue that kept appearing in his gaze. The man brought himself up and said in an almost huffy tone,  
"I'll have you know he was the bravest cat in all of Thedas. He even fought a genlok! Swatted the beast's nose. He didn't like me having to wash his claws afterwards though." He added with a shrug. Then he frowned at them, seeming to take them into focus, now." But that does not answer my question. What do you want?" He asked suspiciously, his hand tightening and loosening on his staff. Hawke nudged his shoulder, then started to sign to Varric again, her eyes firmly on the man in front of them.  
'You will have to speak the truth to him, anything less and he will know... there's something off about him. And speak gently, he used up a great deal of strength with that boy, he brought him back from the brink.' Varric took a moment to process that, then nodded, trying to ignore the frown on the healer's face.  
"We're part of an expedition to the Deep Roads, and was hoping you'd know a way in." The healer's eyes narrowed, the blue within his eyes flickering brightly for a moment,  
"I'm not going down there again, not for anything... but I do have maps." Varric and Hawke exchanged a look, Varric grinning, "BUT!"They looked at the healer again, who held up a hand, "But... a favour... for a favour." He took a breath, and held himself in a ready position. Gripping his staff in both hands in parallel to him, "There is a mage, a friend of mine, that I- I need to check on him. He's in the Gallows, but... I think something will happen to him..." The man shifted, uneasily, Varric deciding he had far too much nervous energy, be it from heavy magic use, or his own nature, it was a bit annoying. "I managed to get him to meet me at the Chantry tonight, I just want to talk to him, see if he's alright. If not, I would appreciate your help in getting him away from here.. After that... after that you can have my maps of the Deep Roads."  
"Oh great, more mages..." Varric heard Carver mutter. Anders jerked, and frowned at the young man behind Hawke, his expression wild for a moment,  
"More...?" His eyes wandered over all of them, even Varric a moment, before landing on Hawke, who stayed stalk still. "You're another mage?" He seemed to relax considerably with that knowledge, breathing out, and moving forward, rather quickly. He reached out to Hawke, but she backed away, and Varric grabbed his arm, making him stop. "I just wanted to greet a fellow mage, someone who'll understand. Someone else who is outside the Circle, and knows our plight." He explained, almost sheepishly,  
"Ahhh, Hawke has a bit about personal space, and doesn't really like being touched." Varric said, for her, giving her a 'you owe me' look. The healer nodded slowly, then his eyes widened shaking his head,  
"Oh, forgive me, I should have thought... Hawke is it? Just call me Anders, everyone else does. Anders from the Anderfels, there's a joke there, what was it... Oh, sorry, I seem to be a bit scattered at the moment." Hawke simply nodded, her eyes hidden in her hood again. He peered at her, curiously, the blue flashing in his eyes once more, before seeming to quiet down, and he with it. "I apologize, I know that many mages worry about physical contact, since it can cause... flare ups." Varric raised an eyebrow, wondering, but then Anders turned away, almost sadly, and said over his shoulder, "Meet me at the chantry tonight, midnight, and we'll be able to meet Karl there, and you can have your maps,"  
Seeing a dismissal, they left Anders to recover in the clinic, Hawke trailing back with Varric as Carver and Aveline made sure there would be no more surprises on the way back to LowTown. Varric glanced up at the rather still Hawke, and asked softly,  
"Hey, you alright?" She glanced down at him, rubbing her fully encased arms, as if chilled, then signed slowly,  
'That mage, Anders, something about him worries me. I do not know what yet, but he also seems to need more help then he lets on.' Her head was bowed away from him, not allowing him to see the expression in her eyes, so Varric made a guess,  
"So... you like him?" Hawke actually stopped and looked down at Varric, her eyes wide within her hood, then signed emphatically,  
'Maker, no! Not like that. More like, I feel I have to help him, that he'll be a good ally to have. Maybe even a friend..' She started moving again, her hands still again for several moments. 'No. I do not dare get attached to someone like that. Could you imagine the looks and shit that would happen if he saw the mark on me? No. Thank. You.' Varric gave a laugh at that, earning a smack on the arm as they came into the fading sun in Lowtown. He tried not to think too much on the relief he felt, but knew things could always change.


	6. Chapter 5: Varric Gets a New Name

**Chapter Five**

 _Varric gets a new name_

Later that night, Aveline departed from them, after helping one of her fellow guard who had been on a solo patrol on the coast, and nearly killed for the happy bag she carried. Aveline said she was going to do some off the clock investigating and meet up with them after they finished helping Anders. Carver also left, saying he was not going to help yet another mage after the day he had, had. So it was only Hawke and Varric. Hawke, feeling a sense of foreboding about the lack of direct fighters, had asked Carver to at least send someone named Falcon, and Varric had to wonder who it was.  
They made their way to the chantry, both using signs to communicate, now, when Varric hissed to Hawke, seeing a large shadow moving towards them. She looked over to where Varric pointed, then gave a series of whistles. The shadow stopped a moment, then suddenly darted forward.  
Varric tried to dodge the seeming attack, drawing Bianca from his back, only to be thrown to the ground, a heavy thing standing on his chest, panting in his face. He shook his head, and stared up at the black, blunt nose of a huge mabari war hound, its large mouth open, fangs exposed, but huge pink tongue hanging down with a happy dog grin. It then began to wash Varric's face, making him yell,  
"Hey! Off! No, stop!" Hawke came over and grabbed the huge mabari's collar, hauling him off, her shoulders shaking in her silent laughter, repeatedly signing the sign for 'sorry'. Varric scrambled up, indignantly, picking up Bianca from where she was dropped, checking over her worriedly, "If that mutt has scratched Bianca, I'm going to skin him and use him as a new fur rug." He growled. Hawke gave a whistle to the hound, who sat obediently, still looking pleased with himself. Then Hawke crouched beside Varric, her eyes aglow with worry.  
'Sorry, Varric, truly. Falcon heard my signal for friend, and had to greet the new friend.' Varric finished his examination of his precious crossbow, then looked at the huge dog. Even with Varric standing as tall as he could, the hound was still taller, even if he didn't include the dog's cropped ears.  
"Could've warned me," He finally said, then relaxed, and grinned at Hawke, "You owe me a pint, to make up for it." Hawke's eyes widened a moment, then softened, and nodded,  
'After we deal with the Warden's problem, promise.'  
"I'll hold you to that." Varric clapped the human's shoulder then looked at Falcon, who just sat and wagged his stubby docked tail. "Should've introduced him earlier, maybe he could've replaced Junior beforehand." There was the snort of amusement, and they were back to normal. Hawke stood and whistled again to the mabari, who gave an excited bark, hopping to her side, his tail wagging so hard his entire hindquarters were shaking. Varric put Bianca back into her holster, and asked warily, as they continued further into Hightown "Anything else I should be aware of? You're not a Tevinter are you?" Instead of the silent laugh he was expecting, her shoulders stiffened a moment, before relaxing, and she just shook her head. The dwarf had to wonder what that was all about, as he read the signs she made,  
'Only other person you have not met is my mother... oh and Gamlen.'  
"I have met Gamlen, actually, been here longer then you have, remember?" Varric said in amusement. Hawke nodded assent, then shrugged, signing,  
'I suppose its better to be in his hovel than in the streets, or Darktown. But he does take a portion of any money we earn, that we do not hide.'  
"That would explain why I see him, almost every night, at the Hanged Man." Varric mused, making Hawke sigh,  
'Unless he is at the Blooming Rose, yes.' She paused a moment, looking up at an old mansion that was right outside the entrance to the Viscount's Way, and her hands tightened at her sides. Varric stopped and looked up at the house, recognizing the old Amell family crest either side of the rather large entrance. He frowned slightly, then looked at Hawke,  
"Old family home?" He asked, remembering Hawke's mother's family name had been Amell, before she had married. Hawke gave a nod, her arms tightening at her sides before she turned away,  
'Carver and I have been trying to talk to Gamlen about it. And about grandfather's will. But he left it in there.' She told him as they walked away from the house, and further towards the religious district of Kirkwall. Varric raised a dubious eyebrow,  
"He left his father's will in the house he lost... Accidentally on purpose?" He asked sarcastically, but Hawke just nodded at him, instead of giving him any hint of laughter.  
'The worst bit is apparently the new owners are Tevinter slavers.' Varric then gave a wince, rubbing the back of his neck, before offering,  
"Void take them all?" She looked down at him, and the look in her eye made him shudder, her gold and blue eyes seeming almost inhuman, and she simply nodded. Then the look was gone, and she shrugged apologetically, ducking her head slightly,  
'Sorry, family is my big sticky point, Varric. Any-' The next few signs were lost to him as he suddenly looked away, thinking he heard something. Falcon moved closer to his mistress, the fur on his shoulders raising, but he never made a sound, waiting.  
Anders had moved from the shadows, and Varric relaxed a bit. Falcon received a whistle and a signal from Hawke, and he stood back, cautious but no longer looking like he was going to spring. Anders looked over them, and frowned, specially at Falcon.  
"Where are the other two? We might need them, I saw Karl go in, but... something is wrong. What's with the dog? I don't care for dogs..." Hawke shifted a bit, and Varric had the feeling she would be cursing, but the dwarf simply shrugged at the human,  
"Its just us, and the dog, less conspicuous, Hawke alone can blend into the background of anything. Falcon is Hawke's hound, and a fighter." He gave a large smirk, folding his arms over his chest, "And while I might draw attention... it won't be because I can light up a room with my middle finger." Hawke gave an odd noise then, and turned away from the men, covering her scarf, Varric gave her a wink, and Anders relaxed slightly.  
"You're right... two humans and a dwarf, would be a lot less noticeable then four humans and a dwarf... even with a dog." He took a breath, and pulled the silly ruffled feathered mantle tighter around his shoulders, looking, in Varric's opinion, like a balding pigeon. But Varric also noticed the man was calmer, and spoke clearer. Playing in the Void is supposed to scramble your brains, no wonder. "If you are ready, then lets go." Anders said, a bit harshly, but looked nervous as shit as they opened the ornate double doors.  
As always, the scent of burning candles and far too much incense assaulted the dwarf's nose. Varric had to cough a moment, earning an amused glance from Hawke as she stepped past him, Falcon on her heels. Now, in the tight of ten billion candles, Varric could see that the hound was a tawny colour except for the vibrant red kaddis that dyed his sides to form falcon's wings, a falcon was also on the hound's forehead. And he was even larger then previously estimated, all muscle. Varric found himself not only glad Falcon thought him a friend, but did think he could easily replace Carver as their go-to warrior.  
The small group moved slowly into the chantry, Hawke pausing to stare up at the enormous bronze statue of the Maker, with a smaller statue of Andraste in front of him. Her covered face gave nothing away, but there was a sharpness in her gaze. She gave a muffled sigh, and turned away, waving a rather flustered looking healer on.  
They following Anders up one of the side staircases that led to both the chantry sisters' room and to prayer rooms in general. Anders was acting a bit more nervous as they moved further up, his hands gripping his staff like it was the only thing keeping him from floating away. And I thought it was only recent surface dwarves who acted like they would fall upward. Varric thought with an ironic twist of his mouth. At the top of the stairs, Hawke looked around, and then tapped both Anders and Varric's shoulders, pointing to a grey haired man kneeling in front of the votive candle rack in the corner of the gallery. Anders gave a bit of a cry, springing forward,  
"Karl! It is you!" He said, reaching out to his friend. The older man stood slowly, and in a monotone voice, his face still towards the candles, said,  
"Hello Anders, I knew you would come." Anders hand stopped just shy of touching the other man's robed shoulder, pulling away slowly. Varric glanced at Hawke, the young woman was watching the exchange with glowing eyes again, and had gotten her glaive out fingering the leather banding worriedly. Varric decided then was a good time to pull out Bianca.  
"Karl? What are you talking about? Why do you sound-" Karl then turned to Anders then, his face completely void of all feeling, staring at the younger man with expressionless brown eyes. Varric heard a hiss from Hawke, and saw, between the man's eyebrow the same mark that was on Hawke's chin... the mark that the Fade had been cut, physically from the man. Anders stepped back, almost tripping on his staff, a sobbed whisper escaping him, falling to his knees in anguish, "No, Karl... not you. Never you."  
"I was too rebellious, Anders, just as you are. Soon you will join me and never have to fear again." Of course, that as when all hell broke loose, templars appearing out of the woodwork. Varric cursed, notching a bolt into Bianca,  
"Better get something sharp and pointy, cause this is going to suck!" He yelled to Hawke, who already had her glaive spinning and rammed into the nearest of the running recruits, sending the man screaming over the banister. She then spun and Varric found Bianca writhed in flames as he peppered the templars with bolts. He blinked in surprise as the men and women staggered back, the bolts exploding on impact, shattering their armour and allowing for better damage from his weapon. He took a moment to grin back at Hawke, "I like it! Keep it up!"  
Hawke used her glaive then as a pole jump and leapt up and over most the fighters, landing beside Falcon who was quite literally ripping the arm off a templar. She tapped some markings on the hound, and he howled loudly, and flames dripped from his maw. Varric stared, almost missing a swing from a Templar with a pole-arm, almost. He might have been a dwarf, but Varric was a rogue and he wasn't going to let a human mage outmanoeuvre him. He dodged back, then actually ran up the spear, kicking the templar's helmeted face, hard, before jumping into the clear.  
The entire time Hawke, Varric, and Falcon had been attacking, Anders was just on the floor staring at his now Tranquil friend. Hawke suddenly darted forward, and snatched his arm, and for a moment, was able to shout,  
"Move!" Her command clear, as was her feminine voice. Anders stared up at her, and then grabbed his head in his hands, crying out, blue fire flooding his veins. Everyone took a step back, and Varric looked at Hawke,  
"Did you do that?" She was just staring, but shook her head, holding her glaive protectively between them and Anders. Suddenly the once rather scattered mage gave a roar, throwing his staff aside and said in a thunderous voice,

"YOU WILL NEVER TOUCH ANOTHER MAGE, AGAIN!" Anders' head fell backward, and he lifted into the air with another roar. The strange blue fire that had flickered in his eyes now flowed down his face, filling his nose, his ears, his mouth... He screamed, a wave of heat causing everyone to stagger and the thousands of candles in the entire Chantry to nearly extinguish. Cracks formed in his exposed flesh, more of that blue fire exposed, even his clothes seemed to crack and burn with the strange fire that came from the mage. He suddenly fell forward, landing on all fours. The templars, Hawke, and Varric all watched Anders, warily. The mage suddenly was up, and grabbed a templar who had wandered far too close. The templar dangled in the scrawny human's grasp, pulling at his hands, desprately, eyes wide under his helm. Anders roared in his face, before shoving his hand under the man's helm. Blue fire spread over the man's face, and with a scream that echoed through the Chantry, his face... Melted. Varric and Hawke exchanged a wide-eyed look, the same thought clearly going through their heads.

Hawke gave a shrill whistle then, and Falcon broke off savaging a templar's leg to run to her side. The clearly possessed Anders snarled, slamming his hands together as he stared at the remaining templars. As he pulled his palms apart a sword of blue fire emerged, dripping with flames that singed the carpet and wood around him. He gripped the blade, and charged, his weapon slicing through three fully armoured templars, before howling as he drove the leader back. The templar captain's helmet had been lost with a strike from Varric, and now stared at Anders with complete horror. The mage rammed the fiery sword into the man's gut, and twisted. Instead of blood coming from his mouth... blue fire dripped down.  
"Holy shit..." Varric heard Hawke whisper beside him, and Varric looked at the woman in surprise. And then a cry came from Karl, catching all of their attention,  
"Anders!" The blue fire that ran through the mage suddenly doused, and he ran to his friend, the grey haired, bearded man staring at him wildly, clutching his sleeves, "Oh Maker, Anders, what did you do?!"  
"Its... complicated. Karl, what happened? How did they turn you Tranquil, you passed your Harrowing!" Anders asked instead, the other man shook his head, touching the sun shaped sign on his forehead,  
"They found some of our correspondence, they were worried that I was going to flee. But Anders, what have you done? It feels like you brought back a piece of the Fade!" Hawke nodded her agreement, holding her throat, looking at Varric,  
"Its... letting me talk. But its starting to go... Hi Varric." She told him softly, voice muffled by her scarf, the dwarf completely speechless. A rare occurrence for him. Karl looked between her and the man holding his arms tightly,  
"Anders, I can feel it slipping away! Please, you must kill me! I would rather die a mage, then live as a templar's puppet!" Anders' eyes widened, and his chin trembled, shaking his head vehemently,  
"Karl, no..." Karl shook the man firmly, trembling all over, tears clear in his eyes, and shouted at the mage,  
"Please Anders! You must-!" Karl's eyes lost focus a moment, and all emotion shrank away, leaving Karl as a hollow shell once again, "Anders, why are you looking at me like that?" He asked, not even curiosity in his tone. Anders tried to stifle a sob, his grip on Karl tight enough to turn his hands white. Hawke shook her head, her hand falling away from her throat and moved her glaive back into a standing position. Varric simply watched as the young woman moved to stand beside Anders, gripping his shoulder. Anders looked up at her, beseechingly,  
"I don't know what to do... no man, never mind a mage should live like this." He said, his voice strained with unshed tears. Hawke tightened her grip on his shoulder, and glanced at Varric, who simply said,  
"You know what to do. Do what he asked you to do." Hawke nodded, and Anders stared between them, before his head drooped. Hawke tightened her grip once more, and then moved away, to where Falcon and Varric stood. They saw Anders take a dagger from his belt, and turned respectfully away, trying to ignore the whispered,  
"Forgive me. I came to late." From Anders and the sudden gasp from Karl. Varric looked up at Hawke, who stared pointedly at the statue of Andraste,  
"Sooo... hi?" Hawke didn't even look at him, she simply touched his shoulder. That was enough.  
When Anders joined them, they did a careful sweep, ignoring Karl's body rested respectfully in front of the votive holder, gathering any supplies that they could, as well as getting rid of evidence of their time there, before using a series of back tunnels to return to Anders' clinic. They had been lucky that it was the day all the sisters dined with the Viscount in his keep, to pray for both his family and all of Kirkwall. It would be some time before anyone would raise the alarm about the ten or so dead templars.  
Hawke didn't sign to him the entire time, and Varric was getting rather unnerved by the lack of conversation. But he stayed silent, thinking that, if it wasn't for the experiment on Hawke... she would be exactly like Karl. That thought caused any words to die before they reached his tongue. It also made him desire another night of heavy drinking.  
When they reached Anders' clinic the mage sat heavily on a bench, not looking at them for several long moments. Hawke had gestured that they should leave, when he suddenly started to speak,  
"Thank you. Both of you." He looked up at him, his dark eyes clear of any hint of blue. Hawke simply nodded, slowly, folding her arms over her chest, her own eyes hidden within her hood, again. Anders sighed, running a hand through his hair,"I suppose I owe you an explanation of that... display."  
"Would be nice." Varric said, without thinking, earning a sharp jab from Hawke. How'd she have such sharp fingers in such heavy gloves? Anders looked up at them, or more accurately, at Hawke,  
"I met a spirit of Justice, some time ago. He was lost, and outside the Fade... a spirit cannot last long outside the Fade. He needed a host, a body to reside in." He sighed, again, and spread his arms, "I offered mine."  
"You offered to share your body with a demon?" Varric asked, incredulously, just staring at the rather broken looking man. Hawke did nothing, save tilt her head slightly, studiously. Anders shook his head sharply,  
"Not a demon, a spirit." He said sternly, then rubbed his head with a groan, "But yes... Ever since he's joined with me, he's... changed. His purpose has been twisted by my own anger at the injustices against mages. Justice has turned to Vengeance." He said finally, staring at his hands that he had clasped between his legs, looking rather lost. Hawke shook her head a bit, and looked at Varric who just shrugged,  
"Don't look at me, I don't know what to do." He whispered, Hawke flicked his cheek, and seemed to grumble as she moved to the mage, awkwardly stroking his back. Anders looked up at her in surprise, making her raise her hands in a show of harmlessness. He blinked, then smiled sheepishly,  
"Sorry, I know that's a lot to take in. And sometimes my head feels rather crowded so I get distracted easily. Thanks." He offered, holding out his hand to her." You have my maps... and, if you don't mind, I'd like to offer whatever help I can. It... it would mean a lot if I had a bit more of a clear purpose. Rather then just trying to right all the wrongs against mages, that is." Hawke glanced to Varric, who shrugged again,  
"Your call, Hawke, I gave you all leadership roles when we signed that contract, choice of allies is one of the many fine responsibilities of leadership." He gave a smirk, and earned a rather rude sign in return, before she looked at Anders' outstretched hand, and the pleading look in his eyes... then gave an audible sigh and clasped it. The mage looked surprised at their clasped hands, before he gave a rather large smile, trying to see into that heavy hood, past the thick scarf, his eyes actually shining,  
"You won't regret this, I swear." He said firmly, not letting go of her hand, and almost looking like he was going to hug her. Hawke tried to pull her hand free, when his eyes grew sad, staring up at her," Why won't you talk to me? I heard you before, before Justice took over. And you and the dwarf seem to talk all the time. Is there a reason why you won't talk to me?" Hawke looked over at Varric, who had covered his mouth with his hand, leaning against the partition between the two doors.  
"Nah, you got this Hawke. I'll leave this to you." He said with a smirk. Hawke's eyes turned icy and she pointed at the two doors, making Varric blink in surprise, but hurriedly close them. Hawke then turned to Anders, who looked thoroughly confused, and pulled off her hood, unwinding her scarf. Unlike how she had shown Varric, this was not out of trust, but frustration, and she looked at the mage coldly. Varric came up beside her, gently plucking her hand from the healer who was staring at the mark on her chin, unabashed. She scowled at him, then at Varric, signing with deliberate slowness,  
'This. Is. Your. Fault.'  
"Yeah, yeah. I know." He muttered, then looked square at the mage, "Look, Blondie, she can't talk to you, by normal means. You're lucky to hear what you did." Anders nodded, then suddenly stood, gently grabbing her chin in his hand, not allowing Hawke to back away, as he studied the marks that were carved into her. Varric grabbed Falcon's collar, just in case, the hound giving a confused whine. Hawke stood straight backed, her odd eyes looking furious, but didn't move away.  
"I've never seen these type of markings before. Can you try talking for me?" He asked, his tone taking the quality of a healer, making every well trained child have to obey. Her lips moved and Varric read them as,  
'I will if you let me the hell go,' Her throat moved, but not even a whisper came out. Varric had to grin behind his hand, hoping Hawke didn't see, "Use of the tranquil rite to render speech completely void. But yet you still have a tie to the Fade, and use of your magic. Accidental?" Hawke shrugged, "Probably then. Demon attraction?" Hawke made a common sign for little, making Anders blink, "So possible to ward... but I'm guessing this was not willingly done." He was answered with a firm head shake, and he finally let go of her. Anders frowned watching her as she stepped away and pulled her scarf back around her face, almost using the scarf as armour against the mage's curiosity. Hawke looked back at Varric then, signing,  
'I no longer owe you a pint.' Varric had to grin, lifting his hands in defeat,  
"No, you don't owe me a thing." Anders looked at Varric, his eyes akin to a sad puppy's. Even Falcon looked more dignified than the mage at that moment,  
"What version of sign language does she use, dwarf?" He asked, Hawke's hood finally back in place, scowling at the world. Varric grinned at her, before answering the mage,  
"A deviation of Tevinter with some Antivan thrown in, amusingly. Its surprising how they flow well together, but it allows her to make minimal movement and hide her signing." Hawke looked at Varric with surprised, who winked at her, before looking at Anders, "Also, its Varric Tethras, merchant-prince and resident lie-smith of Kirkwall." Anders barely seemed to react to the correction, watching Hawke. She looked at the mage for a moment, then turned, shrugged, and signed to Varric,  
'I should get back home, Aveline is going to be collecting me in less than 6 hours.' Varric nodded to her,  
"Want me to escort you out?" Anders jerked a bit, blinking at them, apparently falling asleep with his eyes open. Hawke gave the mage a look, and then shrugged helplessly at Varric. He chuckled and straightened, and told the healer flatly,  
"We need all need to get some shut eye, Hawke especially." Hawke thwacked his shoulder at that, but he ignored it and saw Hawke sign an addition, translating it for the healer, "But if we have need of you, we'll get in contact, Hawke says it would be nice to have another mage on hand." Even if said other mage has a rather homicidal hitch-hiker in his mind. Hawke had added, but Varric had understood it was for him alone. Anders stood, then, and gave himself a shake, before nodding,  
"Yes, I will be here, if you need my aid. No matter what, I do want to help," Anders said honestly, his eyes dark as he stumbled towards the back of his clinic, and they watched as he passed out on the cot furtherest from the doors. Hawke led Varric and Falcon out, and activated a ward sign for the mage, shaking her head,  
'If he does not watch it, that spirit within him will consume all that is human about him,' Hawke signed to Varric as they moved to one of the tunnels that led back to Lowtown. Falcon was allowed to chase local four-legged vermin, though, much to Varric's amusement, did end up nabbing a would-be pickpocket by mistake. He didn't say much to Hawke, until they finally reached the open air, the sky an inky blue. He had to take a deep breath of, remotely, clean air, and sighed, before looking up at Hawke, in all seriousness,  
"Just be careful with that one, Hawke, I've written nicer tragic stories then that one's, and I'm known for my tragedy." Hawke looked up at the starry sky, and after a moment, actually pulled down her hood, an loosened her scarf, her eyes closed to a cool breeze that swept past them. Varric gazed up at the pale woman, her odd hair ruffling, the rune mark on her chin and throat seeming to glow faintly. Then her hands moved, and Varric had to shake himself and focus on the signs that danced from her hands. Maker, Tethras, seriously?  
'He's not yet lost, but I have a feeling, without aide, he will be. And now I find myself feeling responsible for him. His friend, Karl... I could have been like that. And all I could think when I saw him, completely unfeeling, unimaginative, never able to walk the Fade in dreams... was that I was glad that was not me.' Her face clouded, and she looked down at him, strange eyes dimly glowing in the dark, 'I did not mean to find another to take care of.'  
"I know, Hawke." Varric told the human, then gave her a smirk, "You sure you don't like him? You're already babying the man." Her eyes widened, then she smacked his arm, grinning back.  
'Horrible dwarf, gutter head!' He laughed at that sign, holding his hands up to defend himself,  
"Hey! You're the one that led me down into the gutter!" He heard the beginnings of a laugh, and she shook her head, punching his arm once more, before wrapping her scarf back around her face.  
'Thanks, Varric.' She signed suddenly, before flipping her hood back up. He rubbed his abused arm, then blinked,  
"For what?" She lightly flicked his nose, her eyes smiling,  
'For not letting me be too serious. In a way you remind me of my sister,' Varric raised an eyebrow at that, and she shook her head at him, continuing on quickly, 'You make me smile, and laugh. I have not had someone to laugh with, in over a year. Its been...' Her hands wavered then, and Varric just grinned at her,  
"No problem, Hawke. Though you keep this up, and you'll owe me that pint after all. Also, please don't start calling me 'sis', my manly reputation would never be able to stand it." She rolled her eyes, and gave his arm one last punch, making him both laugh and yelp.  
'No, you have too much chest hair.' She finally signed, then her eyes gleamed under that hood, taking a wicked look. 'Chest Hair, that is your sign now.' Varric had to laugh and buffed his nails against said magnificent chest hair,  
"What, not manly dwarf? Or Master wordsmith? Or even sexy dwarf?" Hawke gave a loud snort, and shook her head,  
'No, you are now Chest Hair. The mute has decided and will not be swayed.' She clapped his shoulder, and Varric gave an exaggerated sigh.'Time to get to the house. I will be up far too early. Good night, Chest Hair.' She said, turning then and walking away. Varric smiled, and called after her,  
"Why not Master of Chest Hair then?" He thought he heard the start of a laugh, and saw her salute. He chuckled to himself, and made his way to the Hanged Man. He did technically have other work to do... but it could wait until he woke up in the afternoon.


	7. Chapter 6: Varric Wonders if

**Chapter Six**  
 _Varric wonders if a dwarf CAN drink too much_

After another restless night, it was again past noon when Hawke came to the Hanged Man. Varric was actually in the pub itself, by his normal table near the fire, having his breakfast of leftover "stew" that wasn't too bad to eat, but it was not a good idea to look through it. Hawke only had Falcon with her, at the moment, and upon seeing him, moved to Varric's table. She sat down, and her head thumped down on the hard wood surface, repeatedly. Varric raised an eyebrow at the young mage,  
"That good, then?" He asked, drinking his watery ale. Hawke lifted her head slightly, looked at him, then dropped it on the table, again, this time lifting her hands to form words,  
'Carver is after me to go up a back passage to mother's old house. Gamlen nearly found my stash. Returned umpteen lost belongings to their rightful owners. And I have managed to make Aveline guard captain.' Varric nearly spat out his mouthful, and pushed his plate and mug away, biting back a laugh,  
"All in a day's work?" He asked with a grin, looking heavily amused.  
'And its not even over.' Hawke sighed heavily, and tilted her head to the side, still on the table. If she could, he was certain she would be whining. Falcon nudged his knee, with a very soft whine, and ever the softy, the dwarf put his bowl on the floor for the hound. After polishing the bowl to the cleanest it had been in years, the creature then crawled under the table and promptly began to snore. Varric chuckled, then patted the hooded head on his table, and drawled,  
"Poor Hawke, I just happen to manage to get you a job that undoubtedly will let you set things on fire." The mage made weak movements to swat his hand away, and he chuckled, "Plus its in a mine, and we get to keep anything we find?" Hawke's eyes peered out of her hood, a bit curiously, then narrowed  
'Only mine around is the Bone Pit... did that racist, inbred, snail-eater know he was hiring a Ferelden mongrel?' Varric's widening grin was all the answer she needed. Hawke sat up then her eyes gleaming in her hood, 'Chest Hair, you are an evil, evil, dwarf.' Varric laughed at the name, as well as the response, sitting back smugly,  
"Aww, Hawke, you keep that up, and I'll end up blushing." Hawke's eyes sparkled with mischief, and stretched cracking her hands far behind her. Varric had to admire the view, finding himself feeling more smug than normal thinking only he knew that the lithe creature in front of him was, in fact, a very attractive woman.  
"Varric, why do you look like the cat who got the canary?" Anders. Of course, it was Anders. The mage looked better, like he actually managed to sleep. Hawke waved at him, keeping her eyes hidden now. Varric felt his grin become wooden, and covered his disappointment by taking a swig from his ale. Damn him anyway... He completely shattered Varric's illusion, and the dwarf struggled a moment to keep from saying something too scathing.  
"Anders! Hawke and I were just talking about how we're going to make Hubert want to swallow his own tongue." He said, managing a pleasant tone, Hawke nodded emphatically making the mage blink at them.  
"I'm... not sure what to say to that." Anders fell silent for a moment, "I have to ask, though I know I'm going to regret it. Who is Hubert?" Hawke lifted her head to stare at the mage, her eyes wide in surprise, even Varric raised his eyebrow,  
"Why, he's only the local fusspot, owner of the local quarry, and all around money-grubber."  
'Not to mention racist snail-eating cheapskate. ' Hawke added, which Varric translated, with a grin.  
"Well known for buying from the cheapest stocks to sell at the highest prices in Hightown." Anders frowned, scratching his unshaven chin,  
"Orlesian?"  
"Orlesian." Both Varric and Hawke agreed then tapped their fists together, in a symbol of clanking tankards together without the tankards. Anders looked mildly amused, looking at Hawke,  
"I've been meaning to ask, do you know any thought spells or anything used to speak to others minds?" Varric glanced at Hawke curiously, wondering. She took several moments to answer, then signed,  
'I know some, but they tend to have the habit to reveal every thought, not just what you want other to know.' Hawke explained, and Anders nodded with a frown after it was translated.  
"I suppose that's true, and would be near useless to anyone who didn't want to have a major spell implemented. Not to mention the possible fallback when spells are nullified. Then there are familial spells but again useless to anyone outside a family unit. Justice thinks there might be a way to break the seal." He said suddenly, just as Varric felt himself drifting. Even Hawke's head jerked from a bowed position. She tilted her head, and Anders continued, "He thinks that, with a great amount of concentration, the right spells and herbs, you could break the seal. Or make yourself Tranquil. Apparently." He added sheepishly, looking momentarily horrified. Hawke stared at him, then shook her head firmly,  
'Thanks but I prefer no one hearing me talk.' Varric took that moment to down the rest of his breakfast ale, gave a loud satisfied breath.  
"Ahhh, damn this stuff is horrible. But its not a bad buzz." Hawke looked at him amused, pulling her scarf further and tighter over her face. "I can tell you're making a face, your opinion has been noted and dismissed since you have had a drink yourself." He said in a haughty manner. She snorted, then shot a rude sign at him, making him laugh. Anders looked both lost and lonely. Varric sighed and had to pity the pathetic looking man, "Learn body language, Blondie, its not that hard. Though I have an advantage," Hawke poked the dwarf, then made an obvious gesture of shortness, for her fellow mage. Anders had to smile, scratching his chin again,  
"I'm sure there must be some way to speak with others without the chance of Tranquillity. " Hawke sighed, then made a sign Varric didn't recognize,  
"Sorry, Hawke, is that a mage sign? I haven't seen that one. "  
'Sorry, its a sign for a spell my father created, similar to the blood ties spell mentioned but modified for emergencies. It only lasts a few hours, then would have to be recast. It also requires a vial of lyrium and a drop of blood of those I need to speak to.' Varric translated but looked uncomfortable, holding his chin in his hand,  
"Sounds a bit like blood magic, Hawke." Hawke's eyes closed, nodding slightly, and Anders seemed to consider something,  
"Actually, and I must point out I am not an advocate of any use of blood magic, the spell she mentioned more likely is using the blood as a connection, but not drawing actual power from it. Unlike the phylacteries used by the Circle of Magi." He added in sardonic tones. "Get caught doing anything similar and you're branded an apostate. " Now blue flashed in his eyes and he started growling insensibly. Hawke suddenly reached over and whacked him upside the head, making him yelp, "Ow! Hey! What was that f- oh. Yes, sorry. Ow.." Anders added, rubbing his head, blinking, all trace of otherworldly blue gone, "You know for such a slim, little thing you hit hard." Varric laughed loudly, causing some of his fellow breakfast drinkers to look over at them. But he heard the start of a laugh from Hawke as well, before it was cut off.  
"Hawke left bruises on me, Blondie! She is definitely more than meets the eye." He said with a wink at the woman, she winked back, leaning back in her chair in a most unladylike fashion, arms spread over the back, and kicking up her boots on the bench beside her. Varric started to reach for his tankard, to cover his admiring glance, but remember halfway to his mouth it was empty. Then, as if echoing his thoughts, Anders had to murmur where only Varric could hear,  
"Yes... definitely more than meets the eye..." Varric couldn't help the sharp glance at the mage but of course, Anders was still staring at Hawke. To cover his annoyance, Varric waved over the day shift bar maid, ordering more ale for all of them, even though he knew Hawke would not be drinking. He had the feeling he'd need the spare drink. Hawke just shook her head, then signed,  
'Ask Anders what he is doing topside.'  
"Good point, what are you doing topside, Blondie? And in the daylight no less?" Anders shrugged, accepting his tankard from the barmaid with a gracious smile, but, even though she added an extra sway to her hips, didn't pause to admire. Instead, he looked back to Hawke,  
"Had a lull in the clinic, so thought I'd come by and see if there was anything I could help with today." Hawke nodded at him, and signed to them,  
'Have a job to do after night falls, and then the job at the Bone Pit, an extra pair of hands will be welcome, plus add the fact Aveline will be very busy with training.' She waved her hand idly, staring at the fireplace that Varric had claimed years ago as his storytelling spot. Varric finished translating, then added,  
"Might as well go have a walk through, see if there's any other work to be had." Hawke nodded, and sat up in her chair, moving her hands,  
'We are still short anyone who can draw attacks away from fleshy mages, though. Even you, with your incredible manly chest, would not be able to stop up-close attacks.' Varric nodded, then raised an eyebrow at her,  
"Dare I ask where Junior is?" He asked before drinking his second ale. Hawke made a show of rolling her eyes, then signed,  
'My beloved brother is looking for proper work, because apparently this venture is completely insane. Blah, blah, blah, I'm the middle child you have to worship me, blah, blah, blah.' Varric ended up snorting his ale, choking and laughing. Anders stared at him, completely perplexed,  
"Hawke! Dying! Brilliant!" Hawke thumped his back until he coughed, and could breath again, taking laughing gasps "Maker, Hawke! You are going to be the death of me!"  
"I do so love being completely clueless as to what's going on." The healer said drily, taking his ale with a frown. Hawke shook her head, and spread her hands in a helpless manner. Even Varric shrugged at the mage,  
"Can't be helped, for now, unless she wants to set up that spell?" She waved her hand, then signed,  
'Need lyrium still, otherwise the spell will be the only thing I cast.' After translating for Anders, Varric rubbed his chin, in thought,  
"Could probably get you a small, but constant supply of lyrium. How long would the spell last anyway?" She considered then question, tapping the table several times.  
'For a group of three... four hours. But it can be easily dispelled, and forget using it near Templars. It ends up like a beacon to them, so its nearly useless here with all the templars about, might as well have a sign pointing and saying "There is an apostate here with a major spell!"' Varric snorted, translating for Anders, who looked all but devastated,  
"How disappointing, but I suppose if it was that easy you'd do it all the time." Hawke nodded, shrugging,  
'Its only meant for emergencies. ' She pointed out, which Varric told the mage. Anders sighed,  
"I'll keep thinking, I'm sure something will come to me, though might have to have you teach me the signs." He said looking between the two, Hawke snorted,  
'If this keeps up I will have to set up a class for learning how to speak Hawke.' Varric grinned, then finished his second ale, reaching for the third, but Hawke swatted his hand away, taking the mug he had technically ordered for her. Varric was torn between curiosity and amusement, though a hint of annoyance did spring up.  
"Didn't think you'd drink in the open, yet? Or drink anything with a job to do today." Hawke's eyes glinted, and she signed,  
'I am not.' Staring, gob-smacked, Varric watched as Hawke leaned under the table and poured the majority into the bowl under the table. Varric shifted to peer under, and Falcon stretched then lapped up the piss weak ale, coughing into in a couple times. Then the mabari stood, and shook himself, grinning a stupid dog grin.  
"That was a waste of bad ale." Varric groused, then begrudgingly accepted the rest of the ale, downing it in one swallow. Hawke gave an exaggerated applause, then stood,  
'A tipsy dwarf crossbow man is one thing, a drunk one is something completely different. Besides as you, so kindly, pointed out, I have leadership over this little band of mischief. And Falcon likes it, its good for him.' The belch corresponding with her signing made him sigh. Then, while Anders excused himself to the privy, Hawke leaned over and gripped his large, thick, callused hand in her much smaller, though longer, leather encased ones. 'I do not want to see my favourite dwarf get himself injured because I did not tell him no drinking.' Varric looked into those hypnotic eyes, and felt himself feel a bit heated, and wrestled to control his thumping heart. Instead of any honest and open answers he might have given, the dwarf simply shrugged and gave a sly smirk,  
"Well, then, as long as you don't mind buying after the job's done, I suppose I can't argue with that logic, Hawke," Hawke tightened her grip then let his hand go, her eyes aglow within that damned hood.  
'I can agree with that.' She signed with a nod, before standing, waving as Anders returned. Falcon oozed out from under the table, following his partner looking a touch bulkier than before, if possible. But Varric, grumpily, did have to admit the hound seemed healthier after drinking his ale. 'Come, we should get moving before its dark,' She made an motion towards the door for Anders, and moved through the table and crowds.  
Varric stood, watching the human move with practised ease through the crowded tavern. He tried to think of the last time someone worried about him drinking too much. As a dwarf, it was generally accepted that he could drink more than a human. And he was hard to get drunk, with the Hanged Man's ale, anyway. But, he was honestly amused and a bit touched by the human's worry for him, even if it did make him complain. Varric picked up his duster, and slung Bianca into place over his left shoulder, finally following afterwards, a natural smile on his face. And, after several moments' thought, Varric found himself agreeing, he did drink too much before a job. It did not help he drank more around Hawke, anyway.


	8. Chapter 7: Varric Meets Leandra Hawke

**Chapter Seven**

 _Varric meets Leandra Hawke_

The trio walked into the late afternoon sun, the merchants of Lowtown still busy hawking their wares. Everywhere they looked there were dirty streets and dirty people, going about their day. Heading towards Hightown, they walked down one series of steps into one of the main shopping districts, when Hawke suddenly whirled her glaive out of its sheath, Bianca falling into Varric's hands without a second thought. A whistle to Falcon, and the hound was off, suddenly pouncing on a man in a blue shirt with a black leather chest-piece.  
Sharps Highwaymen, or something stupid like that, one of the many gangs that roamed Kirkwall. Now Varric had his targets, and, thankfully, the streets were quickly clearing out, people seeing the fight and wanting to avoid injuries. Even the merchants ducked into their shops, or stalls, to wait until the fight was over. Varric caught sight of one of the gang's fighter's running for Hawke, only to end up with the bladed end of her glaive in his belly, the young woman not using obvious magic in broad day light, unlike the mage Anders, who shouted,  
"Here's a fireball!" At the closest opponent, before throwing said fireball into the attacker's face. Varric just grinned, venting his frustration through violence, humming Bianca's song as he fired bolt after bolt into the gang members. Even unloosing a clip of fifty or so bolts into the air, a laugh escaping him as he watched the fighters dance and scramble away from the falling projectiles. The two mages, and Falcon, remained unharmed by ducking under thick wood awnings, and not allowing any of the attackers to take shelter. Varric saw a salute from Hawke, then found Bianca once again shrouded in flame, earning the woman a wicked grin. The addition, along with Hawke's whirlwind of staff-work and Anders' own magic made short work of the rest of the gang. They carefully looted the bodies, Hawke then moved to a barrel between the weapon and jewellery merchants, opened it and tipped it over. Out tumbled a terrified, almost rat looking dwarf, his wide eyes a pale blue that did not help with the impression.  
"Ancestors! P-p-please don't hurt me! I don't have any money!" He all but wailed, grabbing the barrel lid and holding it over his head like a shield. Hawke stared at him, and Varric came beside the human, trying to look sympathetic.  
"Hey, now, no need for that, we're not going to hurt you." It ended up being Anders who spoke soothingly to the dwarf, taking on his healer tone. The dwarf stared at him,  
"The last people who said that stole my key to my shipment! Oh why did I ever leave Orzammar?" He peered out his eyes the same colour at the sky, and winced away at the sight of it, huddling under his barrel lid. "Is it always this bright? I keep feeling like I'm going to fall up..."  
"Way to keep the stereotype..." Varric muttered, amused by the newly surfaced dwarf. Hawke glanced at him, her eyes bright in her hood, then signed to him, and he began his act as her mouthpiece, "We can get your shipment back, if you like, sort of what we do." The dwarf looked at him, shifting nervously. Varric got the impression it wasn't just the sky making him skittish.  
"W-would you? I have a buyer lined up already! If you could, I'll give you a share!" The rat-dwarf squealed, replacing the image of a rat with that of a nug. A pale nug with a fake-looking, waxed black beard. Hawke seemed to share his caution, and had Varric ask casually,  
"Sure! Just what is this shipment anyway?" The dwarf already had pale skin after spending his entire life underground, but his face grew paler, his eyes wider. Definitely a nug.  
"N-n-nothing important! Just relics.. pots! From Orzammar!" Varric found himself grinning, even Anders had lost his compassionate look.  
"So a smuggler, and probably a lyrium smuggler at that. Tsk, tsk, what would the Cotorie do if they found out someone was smuggling in their own backyard?" He drawled, Hawke cocking a hip at his side, her arms folded across her chest, looking deadly and foreboding. He decided to take her to the next meeting of the Merchant's guild, when he actually could be forced to go, maybe with her glowering over the heads of every dwarf in the hall he could get some actual work done. The nug-dwarf raised his hands, almost dropping his barrel lid when he did. He grabbed it and just started stammering,  
"No! No, no no no-!" A sharp glance from Hawke and the dwarf swallowed the rest of his protest. "Its in the Alienage! Third door right across from the big tree! Supposed to be there tonight! You keep it! I should have become a mushroom farmer, like mother wanted. Smuggling isn't as romantic as they made it out to be!" The dwarf whimpered, making his way toward the dwarven embassy, keeping his lid over his head as he fled. Hawke let out a snort of amusement, clapping Varric's shoulder,  
'Why Varric, it looks like you put him back on the straight and narrow!' He laughed, and slung Bianca back into place, patting the crossbow fondly,  
"I just don't like competition, besides if he can't handle watching a street fight, he wasn't going to last long. We might as well get something out of setting him straight." He added with a wink, earning one back. Anders shook his head a bit, as they continued through Lowtown.  
"Is getting ahead all you think about, Varric?" He asked, almost sounding amused.  
"Nah, I also think of what my next book is going to be about. Or what extravagant tale I'm going to tell about Hawke." The beardless dwarf said with a grin, earning a thump on the head, and having to laugh. The fight over, life returned to normal, and the merchants once again started shouting out their wares, the dead and unconscious moved to the side for the unlucky street cleaners to take care of.  
Varric noticed that Hawke pointedly ignored every merchant that had items for her, even though her armour was patched, and her glaive had started to crack along the staff. Sadly of the items they had found and scavenged the last few days, none of them found very useful, though Hawke had sent some things to Carver to see if anything was any good. Most were sold to any merchants who gave the best prices. They only had a few bangles worth keeping, and even they were debatable. He knew Hawke was serious about saving, but also felt a hint of concern about her safety if they didn't get her something soon. However, he decided to keep his mouth closed for now, after Hawke's talk earlier. If he pointed out a concern like that to her, so soon, she might not take it seriously. So instead, Varric glanced at the stalls himself, comparing and considering.

They slowly made their way to Hightown, Hawke being hailed by a couple fellows, who recognized her just by the flash of red that was her scarf. Another dwarf, Worthy, the most ironically named dwarf in the world, offered a discount on runes. And they were hired to find the whereabouts of a Orelsian's unfaithful wife. All, in all not a bad day. Even if Hawke dragged her feet at the idea of going into the Blooming Rose, to talk to the missing wife's lover, one of the male "workers". After some consideration, and several grumbles, they decided to take care of both the Bone Pit and visit the worker during his off hours before noon the next day. Anders agreed to accompany them, as long as his clinic wasn't too packed, and Varric found himself agreeing to get up before midday, if only to see Hawke's reaction in the brothel. For now, they made their way to Gamlen's house to pick up Carver and leave Falcon to take care of Hawke's mother. Hawke knocked on the door twice and an older woman with golden eyes, gentle but handsome features, and greying hair opened the door,  
"Oh!" Upon seeing Hawke, who waved a greeting, with Anders and Varric, the woman's eyes widened, then she composed herself and opened the door, smiling warmly, "I was wondering when I would be introduced to your companions. Though I wish you had sent word that you were bringing them!" She admonished gently. Hawke bowed her head, staying still, and her mother sighed, shaking her head. "Never mind, come in, come in!" The Hawke matriarch ordered, chasing everyone in. The place was small, and with everyone in the main room, it felt overcrowded, but Hawke's mother put them at ease, placing Varric on a chair beside Hawke who was sitting tailor-style on a writing desk, Hawke carefully moved paper and inks away from her, placing the mug of tea her mother gave her to the side. Anders, the matriarch clucked over like a mother-hen, forcing tea and stew into his hands and staring until he had his mouth full.  
"I see where you get it." Varric whispered to Hawke, who waved a hand at him, but didn't make any other sign. Falcon found himself a cosy spot in front of the wood stove, and the matriarch was moving around making sure both men had everything they needed before moving to the side room, and fetching Carver. From the room behind the stove a loud snore rattled the doors, and almost threatened to knock over the mug that sat untouched beside Hawke.  
"That man could wake the dead." Carver groused, snatching up Hawke's tea and collapsing in the only other vacant chair, leaving his mother a stool with a finely embroidered cushion upon it. Their mother didn't say anything about Carver's behaviour, instead getting him something to eat before sitting down. Varric glanced at the bowl in his hands, then at Hawke. The young woman pretended not to notice, looking at Carver with a tilt of her head. Carver ignored her as well, working on the stew, head down, acting as if he hadn't eaten in days.  
"Carver, I believe your sister wants you for something." His mother said, picking up an embroidery hoop she had cast aside and started working on it again. Varric raised an eyebrow seeing rather expensive coloured threads on the work, once again looking at Hawke, and, once again, she pretended not to see. Carver grumbled into his mouthful, before swallowing, and scowling up at his sister.  
"What is it?" He asked, looking peeved.  
"Carver." The warning tone in his mother's voice made him sigh, and the young man shook his head,  
"What do you need?" He said, in a nicer, if rather sarcastic tone. But his mother didn't say anything further, and Hawke's hands flowed in sign,  
'We have a couple jobs tonight. Including the job you wanted done. After should be a simple pick-up but you never know.' He grunted, and finished his food, before standing,  
"Right, let me get my gear. Mother, we should be back soon, if not, we'll send a messenger." Carver said, moving back towards the smaller bedroom he had just come out of.  
"What? But its already evening, don't you think you should wait until morning? You've hardly slept!" Their mother said, looking at Hawke, who shook her head. Varric gave the older woman a charming smile, patting her hand, earning a surprised look,  
"Don't worry your beautiful head about these two, I'll keep them out of trouble." He assured her, making the woman blink, and look flustered, almost embarrassed,  
"I'm sorry, I neglected to ask for your names. My daughter tries but I have a hard time with her signs sometimes." She said instead. Varric put that in his growing list of Hawke concerns, but never batted an eyelid, He simply smiled more, and bowed over her hand, planting a kiss upon her knuckle.  
"Varric Tethras, second son of House Tethras, member in good standing of the Kirkwall Merchant's Guild, local author, and your daughter's partner in a joint venture into the Deep Roads. And the rather scrawny fellow is one of our associates, Anders, formerly of the Gray Wardens." Anders saluted with his mug of tea, his cheeks bulging with food. The Hawke matriarch looked momentarily dazzled by his titles, then her gaze hardened, and she looked at Hawke, frowning,  
"Yes, she did say something about a journey into the Deep Roads." She looked at Varric sternly, then, "If she insists on going, I will not stop her, but I hope you will take care of my daughter, Master Tethras, she does not always look out for her best interests. Maybe someone of your standing, since Carver told me you can understand her signs, can talk some sense into her and give up this folly of hiding herself away." Varric released her hand, then, and put his hand on his chest, '  
"I can swear to you that I will look out for her best interests as long as we're partners, Mistress Hawke," She seemed satisfied with that, but it did leave Varric even more troubled. When their mother moved to see what was taking Carver so long, he turned and looked at Hawke, raising an eyebrow at her, again.  
'Not now. Please.' She signed to him, making him frown slightly, stroking his rough, though beardless, cleft chin. Hawke stood then, grabbing her staff and moving to the door, Varric saw Carver waving off his mother, as he hopped about pulling one of his sword's straps tighter around his shoulder. He wasn't wearing newer gear, but his sword had been replaced with a nicer one of the same style but lighter weight. Sighing, Varric put his bowl down on his seat, and moved Bianca back into her shoulder harness, checking his quiver to see if he needed to get any more bolts before they went to work.  
"Thank you for the meal, Mistress, it was greatly appreciated." Anders told the Hawke matriarch, earning a fleeting smile.  
"I'm glad to have cooked for someone who enjoyed it so. Its difficult to get my daughter to eat, and my son seems to inhale his meals rather then actually eat them." Varric saw Hawke shake her head, and Carver looked over his shoulder, tying on a cloak,  
"I do enjoy the meals, mother, I'm just a growing man I can't help but eat fast." His mother looked at his, raising an eyebrow,  
"Maker save me if you grow anymore, you hit the top of the door every time you come home at night as it is! Your sister should put a pillow-" She cut herself off, covering her mouth, and turned away from them. Varric frowned, and looked at Hawke curiously, but she just shook her head, leading them out. Carver wavered a moment at the door, before sighing and following after her, his face dark, folding his arms.  
"What ever was that about?" Anders asked Varric softly, his brown eyes studying the Hawke siblings,  
"Hell if I know, Blondie, but might have something to do with the sister they lost in Lothering." The dwarf murmured,  
"Yes, my twin sister, Bethany. She was killed by an ogre protecting our mother." Carver broke in, staring at Hawke's back. "We were fleeing from the Blight, and she got herself killed. Only after our sister died did she kill the beast." He said, jerking his head towards his older sister.  
"Sorry I asked..." Anders muttered, looking ashamed. Varric nodded once, but said nothing, seeing Hawke's shoulders hitch. He picked up his pace, and moved to match her stride, staying quiet as he walked beside her. She sighed, and clasped his shoulder gently,  
'Thanks, Chest Hair. For not asking' She told him, earning a grin, and a wink.  
"Anytime, Hawke."


	9. Chapter 8: Varric Meets the Broody Elf

**Chapter Eight**

 _Varric meets the Broody Elf_

They took a tunnel down into Darktown, and Carver led them to a secret ladder that would put them right within the basement of the old Amell home. Ironically it ended up being within spitting distance of Anders' clinic, and the healer looked appalled to learn the slavers were dragging slaves right over his doorstep. Hawke didn't give him any time to complain and started up the ladder, making them follow. She paused in the darkness, and took a shaking breath. Then she traced a glowing finger over the edge of the trap door above. She carefully braced herself, and Varric, watching from below, saw a slit of light as she lifted the hatch slightly. They waited, edgy but silent as she studied the room that the hatch led into. Finally she pushed the hatch clear and hoisted herself up, moving clear quickly. After Hawke came Carver, who almost stepped on Varric in his haste to get out of the tight space. Once they were all in the room, which turned out to be a storage area, with several empty pens, they moved towards the nearest door, and had barely opened it when several armed guards rushed at them.  
Carver brought up his sword in a guard stance, and retreated a single step as a guard with a short sword tried to strike at him. Varric sent bolts flying, as Hawke set their weapons aflame. The dwarf had to grin watching his bolts explode on impact, still, and yelled to Hawke,  
"I love that spell!" She winked at him, and whistled to Carver, who moved, quickly, out of the way. Suddenly the small hall where the guards were funnelling into was set alight. He had to laugh, watching the slavers flail and try to beat the flames away. Carver then swung in, finishing off the remainder, before he moved further down the hall, with a yell. Anders, Varric, and Hawke raced after him, Anders yelling out a warning as Carver ran toward a line red globes on the floor. Carver halted and stood beyond the line, the slavers using spears, whips, and long range attacks on the other side.  
"Fire bombs!"  
"Can they be disarmed?!" Varric yelled, and saw an affirmative from Hawke, before running to the first of the bombs. He knelt down, firing a bolt into the thigh of a nearby slaver. He glanced up at Hawke and saw only a sign for rub out. He looked around the lead for anything that might be used to disarm. Seeing nothing that might give him an idea; he just wiped all the runes that surrounded the globe. The bomb blinked once, then all of the line dimmed. Carver took his chance then to thin down the numbers of very surprised slavers. Varric stared and tapped the globe he was next to. "Really, that's all there is to it? Are they stupid or do they think we are?!" Varric yelled, then watched as Hawke picked up a deactivated bomb... And rolled it to the feet of a group of oncoming slaver guards. He blinked as the group gave a cry of dismay the globe exploding and covering the slavers with a flaming jelly. A look from Hawke, and Varric held up his hand in defeat. "Got it, don't play with the globes." She gave him an affirmative then sent a wave of ice over towards Anders who had been surrounded by a group of guards and one of their "alchemists". They found their legs trapped and Anders yelled,  
"Like that? Well watch this!" He held his staff up, eyes flashing and spear like icicles suddenly appeared over the trapped slavers. The alchemist, really a very weak mage, was trying desperately to free himself with a small fire around his legs. He gave a single cry, and was silenced, Varric looking away. Hawke motioned to them and they spread out, finishing off any of the slavers in the lower level. When Varric moved to unlock the door to the main level of the house, Hawke stopped him, shaking her head,  
'Have to find proof of slave operations before can take the head of the snake. If we do not, we are murderers and burglars. We will deal with them, after we find the will.' She signed, leaving no room for argument and holding herself in a way that suggested she thought he might try. He just gave a grin,  
"You're the boss."  
'Damn right.' She signed back, her posture relaxing, and clapping his shoulder, before rummaging in what looked like a office. Carver was in another room, where the Amell sign was all over everything. Anders was trying to tend to the warrior, a series of dents in his armour showing that one of the slavers had some skill with a spear weapon. Getting an idea, Varric gathered up what he could salvage, disappointed to find the weapons actually worse than Hawke's, made to look fancy but most broke when they were in the fight. Except the alchemist's staff...  
Like Hawke's, it was actually a glaive weapon, with a rather fancy two-pronged blade at the top, in addition there was also a mace at the foot of the staff. The wood was strong, mahogany, and metal cored. It even had a couple slots for runes to be embedded. Varric hefted the weapon, surprised at the weight of it. The alchemist had spent quite a bit of money on it.  
"Hah!" He yelled, Hawke swung, clearly without thinking, still looking over some documents, and caught the glaive in her offhand. As soon as she had it though, she looked at it, her eyes flashing in surprise. She put her paperwork down, and gave the staff weapon a proper inspection. In her hand, the dull gold along the blades took on a glow, seeming to shine as if liquid moved under the metal. He noted excitement in her gaze, and watched as Hawke held the staff up, pointing the blade towards the middle of the room where they had piled the bodies of the slavers. It took a moment, but the blade suddenly seemed to glow, and a stream of frost came from its mouth, almost like a sudden blast of winter air. It covered the corpses and... That was it. The bodies turned to ice that shattered, leaving everything else untouched. Varric found himself whistling,  
"That is one nasty staff." He said, impressed in spite of himself. She nodded, strapping it beside her old one along her back,  
'Gather what we can, I think we have made pay-day today.' She then pulled several documents out of the stack she had been looking through, all old vellum with one being lambskin. Varric raised an eyebrow in question, earning a nod, 'The will. Tell Carver, please.'  
"Hey, Junior!"  
"I hate that you call me that, what do you want, dwarf." Carver shouted back, grumpily. Anders came to the middle area, looking miffed, stopping a moment to admire the staff along Hawke's spine... at least that's what Varric told himself. He found himself also distracted as the young woman bent over the desk reading through other documents. The additional staff plus the weight in her belt pouches pulled at her robes and armour, making her curves visible for a moment. But when she moved to glance back at Varric, her robe once again hid any trace, and Varric quickly played off the fact he had been ogling by examining a piece of carved obsidian that one of the slavers had. "Yes, it is a pretty rock, we know you're a dwarf so you obviously love rocks, I hope that's not why you yelled." Carver drawled, standing at the doorway, annoyance written clearly. Varric scowled, but didn't say anything, at least glad the ruse worked with the protective brother; Hawke's tilted head seemed to indicate she wasn't buying it.  
"Hawke found the-" Varric didn't have time to finish, Carver racing over to Hawke, nearly clipping the dwarf with his greatsword as he passed.  
"The will?! What does it say!? Let me see it!" He demanded, reaching for the stack of documents. Hawke smacked his hand away, and Varric noticed a spark as she did, making the younger Hawke yelp and shake his hand.  
'It is what we thought. But we have other things to do tonight.' She signed, sternly, carefully putting the paperwork in one of her more secure pouches. Carver had an obvious pout, and Hawke added, 'We will rub it into Gamlen's face, just not yet. He probably is not even home.' Her brother finally sighed, and relented,  
"It would be better to show him while he is not drunk." He admitted, sullenly. She nodded, picking up what was left to carry, then looked at the men, her eyes glowing under her hood,  
'Well, lets get this other job finished, so we can get some sleep.' She signed, which Varric translated with a chuckle, for Anders. The mage nodded his appreciation, the dark rings under his eyes almost looking like he had black eyes.  
"Maker, do I need another good night's sleep." He said, with a groan, as they trooped down the cellar and back into Darktown. Anders paused momentarily at his clinic, a couple of urgent patients requiring his attention. Hawke, still suspicious of the far too easy sounding job made them wait until not only was he finished, but also had taken a potion to revitalize his energy. Only then, did they leave the dank, foul-smelling, cesspit called Darktown.  
Once topside, Hawke led them, rather eagerly it seemed, to the Alienage. The elves, while looked down upon, and forced to even worse conditions than the refugees that still made Kirkwall their home, made their dingy part of Lowtown... actually not too terrible. There was a lot of greenery, a rarity that made it look far more inviting. The elves also painted their buildings, with natural and vibrant dyes that made even Carver have to stop and smile. And in the middle of the elven square stood a giant tree that shaded every elven home and shop. Pots of dyes, herbs, and baskets of weaving and who knows what else surrounded the only tree in Lowtown, left from the day's work. On the tree, in a bright red and white dye, stood the hand prints of every elf who lived in the Alienage, It was a lovely sight, until they turned around and saw the filth at the entrance of the Alienage, left by those who hated elves and their cheap labour.  
Breaking free of the spell that actual living growth cast on all of them, after their time in Darktown, Hawke tapped Varric's shoulder, pointing beyond the tree. Looking to where she gestured, he saw a door smashed open, flickering light coming from the quarters beyond. He gave Hawke a wink, pulling Bianca free of her holster,  
"Shall we go say hello? After all they so kindly left the door open for us." He asked with a grin,  
'Lets, it would be rude to ignore such a clear invitation.' She signed back, swinging her new staff off her back, frost flowers leaving patterns along the strange tooth like guard at the staff's middle.  
"Lets be done with this, I want to see Gamlen's face when we show him that will." Carver grumbled, pulling his greatsword from his own sheath. Anders gave an almost sheepish nod, using his staff almost to prop himself up.  
"I would greatly appreciate an end to tonight's excitement. I hadn't prepared myself for how... busy we might end up being. Is it always like this? Not that its a problem, of course! Its just been a long time since I've constantly been fighting and healing, and not actually finding a new place to hide out,." Hawke sighed quietly, and patted Anders' shoulder, earning a beaming smile for the touch, the healer standing straighter, "But I can keep going! I did promise my aide, and I will do all I can to aide you." Varric and Hawke exchanged a quick glance, and just started walking towards the door, Anders nearly tripping over himself to catch them. Carver marched forward, standing on one side of the door, while Hawke moved to the opposite side.  
They peered inside, seeing several leather-encased backs turned to them. No metal armour, but Varric caught sight of several dagger sheaths, and at least two swords. Hawke held up her hand, counting down, then Carver leapt in with a roar, charging with his blade like a lance. They caught the smugglers by surprise, but the thieves hadn't been entirely stupid. As soon as Carver crossed the threshold, two hidden guards sprang forward, throwing smoke-bombs to obscure their movements.  
Varric didn't dare fire Bianca while Carver was in there, but Hawke didn't have the same qualms, with her staff firing ice bolts that almost always found their marks. As soon as the smoke cleared, Varric could see frost on every smuggler in the small two room apartment. The dwarven rogue fired a volley of scatter bolts into the rooms, Carver's thicker armour making them bounce off, but the thinner leather-clad thieves ended up looking like pincushions- slowing pincushions at that. Hawke's glance at Varric earned a grin, and a quick wave of a now-empty poison bottle. He swore he heard her start to laugh, upon seeing it, and grinned even more. The poison made the thieves sloppy, and uncertain in their attacks, and, after a fireball from Anders, right in the middle of the room, soon the attack was done.  
Hawke kept hold of her staff, and gestured to Varric to follow her into the only other room in the apartment. In the small bedroom, aside from trashed furniture and pottery, was a chest, locked in the corner. There were some lock picks near it, showing the thieves had only gotten so far before Hawke and her companions put a stop to the mischief. Varric moved to the chest, with a smirk, and began work on it, popping it open in three seconds. A quick glance inside, however, warranted a yell,  
"Trap!"

A flurry of movement, a mad dash, and they were all outside before the attack began. Not wanting to be in close quarters, they spread out. As soon as they were outside Hawke thumped the butt of her staff against the ground, and both Varric and Carver's weapons were wreathed in a silvery white glow.  
"What will this do?" He asked Hawke, not being able to help but wonder. He was going to miss the exploding bolts. Hawke just shot him a wink, and sent a sudden wave of ice at the charging attackers, slowing them as they attempted to avoid the armour-piercing blades. Carver ran forward to meet the enemy while Anders was once again being his own cheer squad.  
"Lets see how you like a fireball up your ass!" He yelled, throwing said flame at a bolter. Varric almost felt sorry for the fellow crossbow man, the other dropping his weapon and trying to pat away the flames. Over the sound of the fight, Varric heard someone shout,  
"No sign of the slave, sir!"  
"Doesn't matter, our instructions were to make sure anyone who exits that door is either captured or dead!" The leader had a strong Tevinter accent, and, while he wore no markings displaying where he might be from, he simply looked like a typical ruffian from the region. Hawke swung at a man with twin daggers, catching him in the gut with the blade at the top, and dragging the man into his neighbour that barely had a chance to react before she was up and over them. Varric cracked the butt of Bianca against the head of the breathing man, before swinging her to shoot the face of a sword wielder who was yelling as he ran at Varric.  
"Night, night." The dwarf murmured, noticing the man's head turning into ice with the magic Hawke had lain on Bianca. A smirk spread on his face, approving before he looked around to see where Hawke had gone. Alarm filled him, seeing the young woman parring a wicked looking blade, while dodging under another. She had gone after the leader and his second, alone. "Legs don't fail me now." Varric easily slipped out of notice of the few remaining attackers, moving to try to aim Bianca without hitting Hawke. But the young woman was in every shot, and Varric was too far away to give a warning. Instead he started thinning out the fighters near Carver, hoping the younger brother would next go after the leader himself. Anders was busy healing a series of wounds on the young man, though. Varric had a sinking feeling, that Carver would not be springing to his sister's aid, anytime soon.  
"I don't know what the elf has offered you, but you should surrender, I have other men waiting for my order." A look at Hawke, and Varric faltered, the leader of the attackers had disarmed Hawke. The young woman was now dodging and using her oversized robes to buffer his attacks. His second was on the ground, his face a bloody mess.  
Suddenly the leader gave a kick to Hawke, sending her into the giant tree's trunk. The young woman gave a clear cry of pain, and stumbled forward, but brought her arms up, ready to defend. Why she didn't use magic Varric didn't know, but he was able to line up a shot, when a loud, forceful voice echoed through the nearly empty square.  
"Your men are dead!" Hawke took the opportunity to suddenly roll to her glaive, holding it ready. Even from his position on the other side of the tree, Varric could see her breathing hard, seeming to be in pain. But his attention was drawn back to the source of the voice, as a helmet was hurled past the leader of the attackers. The leader gave a growl, holding his blade up, but suddenly he gurgled, and a ethereal silvery blue clawed hand suddenly tore through his back, something bloody in its grasp. The man's knees buckled, revealing the harsh, almost feral gaze of a smaller, leaner, but somehow, far more intimidating elven male. The elf had bright silver hair, like Hawke's, that glowed with an alien light, and strange glowing tattoos along his chin and cheeks, that continued down his throat, and everywhere his flesh showed, so did his glowing elegant lines. Even his bare feet had tattoos that seemed to show his bones. The elf bared his teeth, in an animalistic snarl and shoved the man back, dead at his feet, dropping what proved to be his heart alongside him. "And so are you."  
Hawke watched him carefully, as did the others, who moved, cautiously to her side. The elf ignored them, the glow of his markings lessening to just a faint shine, for the moment, rummaging through the dead man's belongings. Anders reached out for her, a frown on his face, but Hawke waved him away, when the elf looked at them. He straightened, his eyes a dark colour, impossible to tell in the dim lighting, his face set in a grim scowl. He suddenly nodded to them,  
"My thanks to you, for taking care of these bounty hunters, they had been sent to fetch back a magister's lost property. Namely my-self." He added, bitterly, his voice far deeper than Varric was used to for an elf, male or not. Most elven men had, at a stretch, a mid tenor, this one had almost a baritone. His eyes lighted on Hawke, and he gave a slight incline of his head, "I must ask, was there anything in the chest?"  
"Not a thing, sorry," Varric piped up for his partner, who had yet to relax in front of the elf. Hawke gave the dwarf a pat on the shoulder, in response, then signed for him to translate, "What was supposed to be in there?" The elf turned away from them, his armour almost skin tight, save some rather spiky bits that warned them away from being too close to him.  
"Nothing. Just something they thought to draw me out into their trap." He growled, bristling and starting to pace along the street. He then stopped, and sighed softly, turning back to them. "I assume you have guessed that I am your actual employer, rather than Anso... though I must commend him for finding such able fighters. I will, of course, pay what Anso promised you, but I would... appreciate your aide with one more thing." He looked at them, expectantly. Varric deferred to Hawke, who simply watched the almost feral elf, her mismatched eyes glowing within her hood. The elf's ears fell back a bit, and his hands clenched a moment, before relaxing again, deciding to continue. "The magister that sent these men after me is supposed to remain here. I seek to go after my former master, however, he is nothing if not cautious, and some allies would be appreciated." Hawke signed to Varric, then, and the dwarf, automatically translated,  
"If you had approached us, openly, we would have understood." The elf was staring at Hawke, his eyes widened. He shifted a bit, then suddenly his hands flowed, into words,  
'Allow me to apologize. I had not anticipated such a reaction' Hawke simply looked at the elf, and nodded once.  
"What's going on?" Anders asked from behind them, a look of distress on his face. Varric glanced back, a very forced smirk on his face. He had enjoyed being the only other one to know how to speak with her. He could only hope the elf would take his knowledge and leave after the job was done. But something told him, the elf was going to be another hanger on. And speaking of hanger on's.  
"The broody elf knows Hawke's signs, and Hawke's agreed to help him out. Anything else?" Dismay filled the mage's eyes, but he shook his head, taking a breath and forcing a smile himself. Varric then looked at Hawke again, critically, noticing her hand curled protectively against her side. He put Bianca back into her holster, causing the arm of his crossbow to bang into Hawke's side. Hawke hadn't expected the blow, though Varric did try to be somewhat gentle. She almos

t staggered into her brother, her hooded head turning those glowing eyes upon him, glaring. He gave an apologetic-if-not-really shrug, and she pulled a bottle from her belt, turning her back on all of them to pull down her scarf and chug the contents. Anders made a sound of protest, but Hawke completely ignored him, settling herself back to normal and turned back to the elf.  
'Lead us, it has been a far too busy night, let us end your master and end this night.' She signed, cross and jittery from the healing potion that spread through her system. Varric often had the same reaction, almost a boost to the senses, it was a rather irritable high, that lasted either too long, or not long enough. The elf seemed almost amused, but threw his head like a horse, a grim smile on his face.  
"Very well." He paused a moment, considering, before looking at her, "I am called Fenris, and what do I call you? Stranger in a red scarf?" He asked, a bit snidely, earning a snort from the young woman, before she signed,  
'Hawke will suffice, for now.' She then waved him ahead, earning a sharp glare before the elf, Fenris, pursed his lips and led the way. It was only with his back, turned, now, that Varric noticed a greatsword strapped to the elf's back, that was almost as tall as he was. He was not sure if he was pleased with this development, but Hawke carefully hid some signs from her brother, 'Look, Chest Hair, I found us a fighter.' Varric had to laugh.


	10. Chapter 9: Varric Lies

**Chapter 9**  
 _Varric Lies_

The trip to Hightown was uneventful, thankfully, but considering it was past midnight, any troublemakers would either be near the Blooming Rose, or near the market. Or in targeted houses, already. Not in the streets near the Chantry, heading into the more well-guarded areas of Hightown. Fenris was constantly roaming ahead, his sharp gauntleted hands clenching and relaxing with his need to get to the mansion his former master was located. Hawke never made a single sign, and Varric itched to know what she was thinking. It was starting to become maddening. Something about the elf seemed to strike a cord with the human woman, and it was all Varric could stand to not shake her to get something more out of her,  
"Hawke is awfully still, even at the Chantry last night there was always some movement... even if I couldn't read it," Anders said at Varric's side. He looked up at the healer, keeping a neutral smile in place, shrugging at him,  
" I can't tell you what's going on, Blondie, something's off about all of this, and I think its worrying Hawke." He found it almost amusing they avoided calling Hawke either female, and thus identifying her as a woman where the elf was sure to hear, or as a male, to keep up the ruse. Not that it really mattered, but it seemed important to Hawke to keep her gender hidden. Anders nodded, absently, staring at the other mage that was making sure to keep the elf in sight,  
" I get a bad feeling about this... Fenris, he stinks of strange lyrium, any mage nearby could smell him... Templars probably could as well, but I think its a stink of something wrong with him, he gives off a complete feel of "Do not touch me". Also did you see what he did to that man? He didn't just tear his heart out, his arm faded into his chest, grabbed the heart, and continued through to his back. And-what? What's with that look?" The healer asked, Varric feeling a bit ill after Anders' description of the event, and glaring up at the healer,  
"Do us all a favour, and shut up." Carver said from behind them, a hard scowl on the young man's face. The older mage looked sheepish, and, mercifully, closed his mouth. As if Varric had needed anything else on his mind. But, his writer instincts told him that the story here was getting very interesting, the besotted older mage, the wild, rebellious elf, and then Hawke, the tragic heroine. It was any literary's dream story actually playing before his eyes. That did not ease his discomfort, however. He had to put things into perspective, and he knew it, he'd fallen in love once, and, Maker knew, he almost caused a clan war! He barely knew this young woman, a human no less! He was destined to be the narrator of the story, not the heroine's lo-no you don't, Tethras, don't go there, dammit.  
"We're here." Fenris' voice jarred Varric from his thoughts, earning a relieved sigh, and the dwarf looked at the huge mansion that stood in front of them. It was completely detached from the other houses, in the neighbourhood, and, it seemed to him, the other houses seemed to lean away from it. Compared to the well maintained, freshly painted, and cheerful lighting of the other houses, the mansion gave off waves of dark, dreary, I'm-not-a-serial-killer's-house-honest vibe.  
"Suits you to a T Broody." Varric found himself saying aloud. Hawke thumped his head lightly, and, Varric felt a hint of relief, again. She was still Hawke. He gave her a smirk, in response, earning a nose tweak, before noticing the glare on the broody elf's face and they readied their weapons, Fenris paced angrily in front of the door to the mansion, he was only missing a twitching tail to really look like a wolf pacing in front of it's prey's hiding spot. At Hawke's signal, Fenris literally splintered the door and crashed into the mansion.  
"Denarius!" The elf roared, as they funnelled into what turned out to be a side room, served to let guests, slaves, and traders in from the elements without actually seeing the main area of the house. Still a popular design, it only made the elf even more angry. If that was possible, "Stay on your guard, Denarius is a powerful magister and likely to have set traps." Fenris growled, his huge sword held at ready, bare feet digging into the carpet.  
The house wasn't any better on the inside, though here and there were suggestions of someone either living in a long abandoned house, or of someone trying to restore the house to past glory. It did not look like they knew what they were doing. There were rather dim lanterns lit here and there, and they could see out of fashion furnishing and ugly paintings done, it seemed, by someone who dosed himself with crow venom before snuffing it. The others stayed quiet as they moved further into the mansion. Finding many of the doors either barred, or destroyed, they went through one of only two they could go through. They ended up in another corridor, but the room to the bottom left was missing its door. They moved cautiously towards the open room beyond, only to suddenly be surrounded by dark creatures that emerged from the ground. Faceless heads in dark cowls, long skinny arms with sharp claws, glowing white eyes that didn't belong, they were the stuff of nightmares.  
"Shades!" Anders yelled, his staff bursting into flames as he struck at the nearest creature. Hawke enchanted the two fighters' and Varric's weapons with frost, once again. Varric swung Bianca, and rapid fired bolts straight into the cowled head of one of the shades. The monster screamed, spreading its arms as frost covered its head, before exploding with a roar and a shower of snowflakes.  
"For something without a mouth, they certainly make a fuss!" He yelled to Hawke who was dragging her glaive through one of the monsters, earning a shriek from it as it dissipated into smoke. She swung over, firing an ice bolt at another shade before letting him see a wink. He grinned back, and watched Fenris dispatch the last shade, the noise of its scream cutting off and silence filling the mansion. Anders checked over them again, before they moved on, examining the open room, a fireplace lit with papers burning as they entered, nothing looking important. A quick search proved nothing of interest, only finding some knick-knacks and a few coins that were divided into almost everyone; Fenris looked disgusted at the idea of touching anything that might belong to his former master.  
The group backtracked, and ended up summoning yet another wave of shades, these were even quicker to dispatch, now that they knew how to handle the lesser demons. Going through the only other door, they ended up at a side entrance to the main

hall. It was as decrepit as the rest of the house, and seemingly empty. As with many of the nicer houses, this one had a pair of large stair cases that led to a balcony area that served as the entrance to the upstairs, where only the wealthy family's friends and loved ones were allowed, every one else would have to suffice with meeting in one of the many downstairs reception rooms. Fenris seemed to growl, before yelling as he strode into the centre of the large room,  
"Show yourself, Denarius! Come and face what you have wrought!"  
"Is he serious? He sounds like an actor from a play; a bad one." Varric whispered to Hawke, who awarded him with a snort, then a thump on the head. He simply grinned, then readied Bianca, as the elf's roar was answered with a pair of opposing answers. A high pitched screech and a low pitched rumble that turned into a roar. Fenris snarled at the pair of monstrosities that appeared out of no where. On the balcony was a very tall, very thin apparition, wearing a ridiculously tall mitre, and a set of robes that didn't hide the fact the creature had no feet. It was moving its hands and shrieking, a series of glowing spots appearing all over the floor. Below the balcony, and taking its time to crawl out, was a creature of fire and ash, looking very much like a fiery, upside down tear-drop, with skinny arms that had elongated claws, again.  
"Arcane horror and rage demon!" Anders yelled, as they scattered to more defensible positions,  
"I don't care what they are, as long as I know I can kill them!" Carver yelled, swinging his blade at the rage demon, the icy kiss of the blade causing a hiss as it struck the fiery demon, and making the beast snarl in anger.  
"Shades!" Anders then warned, as the demonic monsters crawled from the glowing spots.  
"So nice to have so much warning!" Varric yelled, before whistling a caution, pointing Bianca at the ceiling, sending a rain of bolts scattering all over the room, striking the demons, while his companions shielded themselves and ducked under the stairs, or out into the open door from where they had come. The creatures screamed in fury and more than one of the shades launched themselves at Varric. He leapt out of the way, and a ball of ice suddenly exploded where he had been, catching the shades in the blast. He glanced at the source, and saw a quick wave from Hawke, before she was whirling away, vaulting over to the Arcane Horror, who was starting to cast again.  
Hawke swung her staff-weapon like a club, striking the demon's head, making the absurd hat fall off. It shrieked in response, before vanishing, only to appear further away, throwing bolts of shadow at her. She used her staff to deflect most of them, spinning the glaive and fired off ice bolts in reply, staggering when the demon struck her already injured side. The mage took to a knee, and with an audible cry, her hands suddenly shone, she slammed them on the marble floor in front of her. Varric threw his arm up, to ward off the sudden flare of light, and every demon in the room was slammed down. Many of the demons stayed down, stunned by the spell, though the rage demon not only got back up but also roared in fury and hate, doubling, then tripling its size.  
Hawke was in pain, that was obvious, but, after smashing the mace end of her glaive into the head of the fallen Arcane horror, effectively ending the creature as it dissipated into nothing, leaving a pile of rags of the dead mage it had possessed, she suddenly took off running and leapt onto the rage demon, using the ice blade of her weapon to pierce the creature's head. She dangled there, holding tight to her staff, as the demon shrieked and howled, trying to rake her off. With the beast distracted, both Fenris and Carver laid into it, while Anders and Varric finished off the remaining shades, who, without the Horror to direct them, had spun into chaos and were far less effective.  
The rage demon suddenly gave an ear-splitting growl, and collapsed into a shrinking pool. Hawke flipped her staff over, as she rolled from the fallen demon. She breathed out a sigh, and Varric swaggered over, smirk back in place, and offered her a hand up. Anders was too busy examining the remains of the demons, Carver was pointedly ignoring his sister's existence, and Fenris... Fenris was standing at the top of the stairs, glaring at all of them,  
"Come, Denarius must be here!" He snapped at them, but seemed to refuse to actually look at either Anders, or Hawke... Hawke sighed beside Varric, and signed to the dwarf,  
'I definitely owe you that pint.' He laughed, as they trudged up the stairs,  
"Hawke, you owed me that pint when we were just doing a retrieval. You owe me at LEAST two by now." Hawke rolled her eyes, and Varric simply grinned, "Come on, before the broody elf explodes in a fit of angst and violence." She nodded, warily, and they searched the rest of the rooms, but found absolutely nothing. Finally they came to the last of the rooms, which turned out to be a rather torn apart study. Fenris sat on a bench in front of a lit fire, all sorts of mage's things thrown into it, the elf the very picture of dejection. Hawke signed for Varric to wait, the other men still looting whatever they could find. She moved to stand near the elf, who was gripping his hands tight, she reached a hand to him, and he jerked back, snarling,  
"Do NOT touch me, mage!" The word was as vile a curse to him, as anything else could be. Hawke held her hands up, simply looking down at the elf, who glowered at her, but the young woman's cold, mismatched eyes remained unwavered, until at last he looked away, his ears drooping, "I.. I apologize. I saw the power you and that... other man possess. My former master was-is still a magister, a mage from Tevinter, and is quite powerful, both politically, and magically." He said, staring at the fire, then sighed and looked up at Hawke, his eyes a dark green that almost looked black even with the light of the fire. "I still owe you a debt, for you help," Hawke shook her head, signing,  
'I did not agree to help you for money, you needed help, and I was able to give it. That is what I do. That is what I strive for. Mage or not. Handsome elf or not,' The elf blinked in surprised, then nodded once, trying not to smile,  
"I... see. Well, then," Fenris stood, and cleared his throat, "If you will, I would like to repay your assistance, and aide your endeavours, by lending my arm to your cause." He waved at the room, a small, feral smirk coming to him, "I will be here, if you need me, and if Denarius wants his mansion back, he can come and claim it." She offered her hand to him, staring pointedly at him. It look him several moments, but he did finally clasp her arm, and Hawke shook his once, then released. Then she patted his arm, signing,  
' I will also be available to you, if you need me.' He looked surprised, again, but simply nodded curtly. She turned and walked out near Varric then, who gave her a large grin, even though he really didn't feel like grinning,  
"Smooooth." She swatted his head, and signed,  
'Shut up.' Then she looked around, hand on her side, and signed to him 'Tell my brother and Anders to divvy up the haul, and tell Carver that I'll meet him in the morning with the will.' Varric frowned, raising an eyebrow,  
"Where are you going? You should let Anders see to you." She shook her head firmly,  
' Rather take care of it myself, he is an excellent healer, but no.' Varric found himself picturing her in many states of undress with Anders, love-sick puppy that he was, making a mess of trying to actually heal her. He winced and shook away the mental image,  
"Doesn't answer where you're going though. I understand not wanting to take it home, and not letting Anders see..." She didn't sign anything, and did not look at him, making him frown even more, "No, no, no, at least go to my room at the Hanged Man, Don't hide in the Chantry or whatever it is you're thinking of doing. And if I find that you haven't gone to my room, I will hunt you down myself. Got it?" She held up her hands in defeat, and nodded. He relaxed again, and grinned up at her, "Sides, time to start a tab for you, since you owe me four now."  
'Four?! I barely owed you three!' She signed, emphatically, before gripping her side, her eyes hidden by her hood, but Varric heard the hiss, 'Talk to you about this later.' He nodded, watching her limp down the stairs and through the main entrance, Carver had managed to pry open in his search for loot.  
"Where's Hawke going? I noticed her limping?" Anders, of course.  
"Hawke's gone?!" And Carver, right behind... The younger man scowled, and gripped the banister tight, looking right at the dwarf, accusingly. Varric decided playing dumb would be the best bet here, and held up his hands,  
"Hey, now, down Junior, how should I know? Just said that you'd get the will in the morning, and to make sure to split the loot evenly. I'll take care of selling shit, since I can get better prices for Hawke." Carver scowled at him, murderous intent in his eyes, before he turned and stormed down the stairs, saying loudly,  
"If Gamlen leaves before Hawke gets back, I will have both your hides as throw rugs!" The slam of the door, as he left sent echoes throughout the dilapidated mansion,  
"Charming!" Anders muttered, then sighed and rubbed at his balding head, looking down at Varric, "You really don't know where Hawke went?"  
"Haven't a clue, Blondie," Varric said, not sure it was a complete lie... but hoped it was. Anders seemed to take him at his word, in any case.  
" Alright... I do hope I can make sure everything's alright, but I'll leave it, for now." He said, frowning slightly, before glancing back, at the room where Fenris was hiding, "Did I hear correctly, does he hate mages?" There was a flicker of blue in his gaze, and Varric shifted slightly,

his trigger finger itching,  
" Yea, he was a magister's slave, what do you expect? They're known for doing nasty shit to their slaves, plus add blood magic? Yeah, I don't blame him." Varric said, "So are you going to be up to going tomorrow? Hawke has a full list of things to do," He said, trying to steer the conversation away from the elf. Anders looked at Varric absently,  
"Mm, if you say so. I will be available as always. Are you certain I shouldn't try to talk to him? Maybe I could bring him some of the literature I have available? Or I can actually just talk to him..." Varric mentally groaned, looking up at a portrait, the person in the painting... was it a man or woman? Maker it was ugly, with a stupid beret and a huge nose... was that a mole? Andraste's flaming ass, the artist must have plucked out his eyes after this... Okay the stupid human has been blabbing too long, time to interrupt, so I can go see if Hawke is actually at the Hanged Man, and Maker, I hope she is. Its getting too late to go chasing her all over the Chained City€¦  
"Listen Blondie, go home, if you're coming out with Hawke again tomorrow you'll need your sleep." Anders blinked at him, almost seeming to be falling asleep while talking. Was that even possible? Human could do this apparent dream thing... dwarves did not dream. So maybe it was possible? He knew humans talked in there sleep.. Maker he was getting tired.  
"You're right, dwarf-Varric! Varric, I meant Varric. Good night, I will see you tomorrow, no doubt?" At Varric's nod, the older mage beat a hasty retreat, earning a quiet chuckle from the dwarf,  
"You lied to both of them about Hawke." The elf's voice made him spin, Bianca in hand. The elf simply raised a jet black eyebrow, leaning against the door frame. "I do not care why, she seemed insistent for her privacy." Varric's turn to raise an eyebrow, as he slung Bianca back in her holster,  
"Dare I ask how you figured her out?" Fenris looked at the dwarf with a disdainful glower,  
"I have eyes, ears, and a nose, anyone who actually uses them can tell she is a woman. The simpletons she is normally surrounded by clearly do not." Varric found himself wondering if that was a dig at him, but decided to let it slide, for now. Hawke had apparently been attracted to the broody elf, so he wanted to keep his mouth shut, and simply shrugged at him,  
"She does well enough, though, been here for a year, and she hasn't been pegged, yet." Fenris shrugged as well,  
"Perhaps. Though, I do not see why she hides her sex, the Templar Knight-Commander is a woman, why does she hide?" It took Varric a moment to realize that it was a genuine question, and the dwarf shrugged, leaning back against the banister, keeping an eye on the elf.  
"Search me, Broody, she hasn't told me her reasons." Fenris raised a sceptical eyebrow, and Varric raised his hands, "Honest, sides only have known Hawke for what... three days now?" Now Fenris looked truly surprised, standing up straight. Elves were generally smaller, and slimmer than humans, sleeker really. But the elf was only slightly shorter than Hawke, making him a good foot and a half to two feet taller than Varric. Not that the dwarf found him actually intimidating. He was too angsty to be taken seriously, even if he could fade his hands into a man's chest. No, Varric looked at the elf, the same way he did all his business associates; wry amusement and, until proven otherwise, not a lick of trust. Hawke being an exception.  
"It is surprising, she seems to be so well at ease with you, dwarf. For someone who is working so hard to hide her-self, she seems to almost trust you completely." The tone was snide, disbelieving, and almost cruel. Varric had a bad feeling where this was going, and shook his head,  
"She and I signed a contract, and agreed to no big secrets," At least nothing that would put their partnership into jeopardy, Bianca's story was one that he swore to take to his grave, and he never broke a solemn, personal promise... promises given at the drop of a hat, sure, that was business. His promise to his mother and Bianca? That was personal. He gave the elf another shrug, "And she needed someone to confide in, turns out I was the best choice at the time."  
"And let us hope she does not choose to regret it." The elf drawled, his eyelids half closed, seeming to be looking at the dwarf in the same view someone might study an insect. He was really starting to grate,  
"For a former slave, you certainly like to look down on others." Varric snapped back. He felt a niggling at back of his mind, concern for Hawke starting to win out, coupled with being tired after a long night. Maker he needed those drinks now. Fenris' eyes opened fully, studying the dwarf, curiously. Varric felt, a little, fortunate, that Fenris had not decided to take offence.  
"It is one of many things I learned as a slave; to be quick to judge, and since I have been... free, I have come to rely on my snap judgement. But... perhaps it is too soon to judge. That remains to be seen. Please leave, it is late, and it has been a trying day." Fenris then turned, and walked back into the study, shutting the door and leaving a rather befuddled dwarf. Varric scratched his beardless chin, with a small frown, shrugged, then took his leave, deciding it was not worth pushing it. It was time to go home... And Maker, please don't make me have to chase after Hawke.


	11. Chapter 10: Varric Loses his Bed Again

**Chapter Ten**  
 _Varric loses his bed again_

The crowd at the Hanged Man was in full swing, for all the time it seemed to take them at the mansion, it had only been a couple of hours. There were a few barmaids on tables, doing rather provocative dances. Any other night, he might've ended up with one of those girls in his bed. But after the night he had, he simply trudged up to the bar, yelling to Corff,  
"Did Hawke come in?" Corff grunted a moment, as he was pulling a new barrel of home-brew out of the back room. But after he got the barrel where he wanted it, he looked at Varric, wiping his brow.  
"Hawke? The hooded man with the red scarf?"  
"That's the one. He here tonight?" The human scratched his stubbly chin, before he got back to work filling drink orders, not a hard task when there were only three ales on tap; piss weak, watery, and barely drinkable. The stuff with an actual kick was special order and expensive, and anything someone might actually want to enjoy... well, you were better off at the Blooming Rose, but not much. Varric accepted his pint of the barely drinkable stuff, and waited. Corff was not a man that could be rushed, hence why he married his quick thinking Nora, but she was no where to be seen. Probably getting supplies for tomorrow's meals.  
"Yeah," Corff finally said, "Nora put him in your room. Said you knew him. Seemed hurt, but didn't say." He paused a moment, in thought, and Varric once again had to wait. At least this time he had booze. He took a draught and sighed a bit, at the old, familiar burn and foul taste of the ale. "Didn't say a word, but seemed thankful at least. Nora didn't brain him." For that Varric was thankful, Hawke didn't always have control of her magic, and if she was wounded and exhaughsted…  
"Thanks, Corff, where's Nora, anyway?" He asked, converstionally. Corff grunted, wiping out a glass with the same rag he used to wipe his brow. Varric took a drink, as he glanced around him, looking for the woman,  
"Trying to baby the man, probably." Varric sputtered, and coughed, and left a mildly confused Corff as he sped through the throng to his room. He threw a couple of men out of his way, starting a couple of fights because of it. He nearly ran into Nora, who looked surprised at him,  
"Master Tethras! What's the hurry?" She asked, a basket at her hip, showing she had been doing the laundry rounds, instead. He breathed out a sigh, waving at her,  
"Sorry, Nora, Thought I'd… forgotten something." He said, a little out of breath, Nora blinked at him,  
"Well, your Hawke is in your room, he wouldn't let me help at all, but at least he was polite about it." Varric raised an eyebrow, and Nora shrugged, shifting her load, "Well, he ushered me out without slamming the door, and gave me a silver for the trouble." She added, hinting at Varric, as well. As always, he thought with a sigh, Nora's compassion did not come free. He passed a silver, as well, begrudingly. It was typical that Hawke was generous, and if he paid anything less, he'd have actual piss in his ale for a week. Nora bobbed a curtsy, unable to keep the grin off her face and scampered off, skillfully making her way through the crowd, avoiding the fights and the drunks that would want her to dance and sing with them. How Varric envied that ability. Especially right now. He sighed and turned towards his door, and stared at it a moment. He finally grumbled and just opened it, having to use his key for once.  
"Hawke, its me." Varric called, half hoping she was dressed, as he locked it behind him again. The other half pictured seeing her if not mostly undressed, at least bare chested. The view that greeted him, wasn't too unpleasent, actually.  
Hawke had her back to him, and while her armour was off, she wasn't completely bare, nor was she bare chested. She had a tight bodice around her breasts, that flattened them and hid them disappointedly well, and was tying a series of bandages around herself, the harsh scent of simmering elfroot filling the room. She glanced back at him, a stalk of elfroot in her mouth to help ease any pain she was in. It didn't stop her face from being pale, nor her cheeks shining a bit as she clearly had been crying with the pain of it. She turned away again, embarrassed it seemed. Not surprisingly really.  
Varric undid the clasp on his holster, carefully putting Bianca back into her rack, and flung his rather dirty duster to its hook. He made a mental note to ask Nora to get it cleaned for him, then tried to

think what he could do, to keep himself distracted. He now remembered the ale he had left at the bar, and a sigh escaped him. Begrudingly, he moved towards the fireplace, grabbed his rather banged up kettle, and added some water from the bucket Hawke had managed to smuggle in.  
"Want some tea? Got a couple of different ones a frend gave me a few years back, said its supposed to help "relax your nerves", whatever that means." He glanced back to see a faint nod, and he grabbed a second cup for her, putting it on the table, then settling in his chair, unable to keep from glancing at her. Her silver hair was fairly long, it reached past her shoulders, and was very distracting as it kept reflecting the firelight. She was gritting her teeth, and Varric frowned, "Here, let me help, I promise, no funny business." She jerked her head up, and ended up gasping, because of it. He moved to her side, and he waited until she nodded, before looking to see what he was dealing with. "Maker's breath, Hawke…" He hissed, seeing the state of it.  
Hawke had managed to hide most of it in sticky, gray-green poltices and a large bundle of crushed elfroot. However the extent of the mess spanned from just above her hip upward past the band covering her breasts. Stop thinking about her breasts, Tethras! He carefully unwound her disastorous attempt at binding her ribs, and shook his head. Vibrant pink arcane burns, dark purple bruises, green poltice, and pale alabaster skin turned her side to a patchwork of colors.  
"Shit, Hawke, you managed to do all that with this?" Varric asked, as he fixed the elfroot bundle firmly over her ribs, and began to tightly wrap her wound, trying to ignore the pained sounds that escaped her. Too distracted by the pain to answer, Hawke simply gripped her knees tight, grinding her teeth into the elfroot in her mouth. He started to hum then, something he always did to distract himself, and hopefully her as well. It did seem to, as she stopped tensing and relaxed enough for him to tighten the binding. When he wiped his hands, she sighed and touched the bindings with a faint, if sheepish, smile,  
'Thanks, Varric.' He smiled back, fetching the kettle off the fire, and pouring them both a cup of tea, before settling in the chair near her own, noticing with amusement how long she had to stretch her legs to slump into the stone-carved dwarven seat. She accepted the cup with a thankful nod, blowing on it, in perfect lady-like fashion, taking a dainty sip, then nearly turned green. He gave an evil grin, sitting back in his chair, 'What is this crap?!' She signed emphatically wiping her mouth, her tongue hanging out as if that would help ease the taste.  
"Rashvine, prophet's laurel, and deep mushroom tea, tastes like a snuffluer rotting in your mouth. But! Its apparently good for helping increase the effects of all healing, so drink up! I'm enjoying a nice dragonthorn tea myself, nice and spicey." He said with wicked grin, sipping his delicately, and making satisfied noises. She stared at him, looking horrified, then scowled, and, with impressive endurance, downed the entire cup. She coughed and gagged, but thumped her tea cup down with a solid bang,  
'You are an evil, evil dwarf, Chest Hair.' She signed then, then blinked several times, yawning widely. Varric simply smiled, and nodded toward the bed,  
"Go sleep, Hawke, your brother is probably going to be here at sunup anyways, to drag your ass over to rub Gamlen's nose into his shit." He said with genuine amusement. She wrinkled her nose at the thought, something he hadn't been able to see her do. Focus on the tea, its not like you've never seen a pretty face before. But it was almost a blessing to see her face, after the night they had. To actually see that smile, even though her face was pale, and her eyes surrounded by dark circles. Andraste's tits when was the last time she had slept? His bed? Two nights ago?  
' You need sleep as well, we have a mine to clean out, tomorrow. Remember?' He stared at her a moment, he had almost hoped she had forgotten. The knock and burn to her ribs should put her out of commission for a couple days, at least. And here she was trying to finish yet another big job. She met his gaze, raising a pale eyebrow, ' I heal quickly, This will just be a twinge come morning.' Disbelief remained on his face, and she stuck her tongue out at him, rolling her eyes, 'Do not make me flash you, in the morning, I will do it.' That Varric had to laugh at,  
"Careful, Hawke, one might think you were flirting with me, like you were flirting with Broody McBroody." He grinned as she blushed somewhat, and dodged the swat that was aimed at his head. He grinned and sipped his tea, noticing that it was getting cold already, and losing its bite. Hawke made a rude sign, then sighed, running a hand through her hair, scratching her head irritably,  
'He looks like he has been through the same shit I have. Worse even.'  
" And that is so very attractive." Varric drawled, teasing, but feeling almost like he had been punched in the gut. She tweaked his nose, and shook her head,  
'No, he has chisled features, haunting eyes, and a mouth that should smile more, that is what attracts me. The horrible past makes me want to help.'  
"And the brooding?" Varric asked, curiously, finishing his tea to hide the downward twist of his mouth. Her head thumped back on the back of her chair, staring at the ceiling,  
'Makes me want to slap him.' Varric snorted and had to laugh, not able to dodge the smack this time. Unfortunately, her blow landed on one of his marks from the shades, and he ended up cursing, wiping the spot with a scowl, making sure it wasn't bleeding, 'Sorry, sorry, let me see.' She signed quickly, standing and moving to his side,  
" Its not that bad, I am a dwarf, takes a bit more for things to actually do any real damage." He said, distracted, the spot was so cold it burned, and now was extremely uncomfortable. Her soft fingers suddenly touched his arm, immediately drawing his attention. Why did she get his attention so quickly, she had barely touched him! But she had his gaze now, and those hypnotic blue and gold eyes were making sure he knew it. She then raised an eyebrow at him, and he finally rolled his eyes. "Fiiiine." She just nodded a bit, and he shrugged his tunic lower, allowing her to examine the lucky hit from a shade. It seemed to ignore his armor, and managed to rake the base of his neck, but he had been able to ignore the blow. He was a tough son of a bitch, after all.  
' You are lucky you are a dwarf, shades can cause sickness with their claws. You just got an arcane burn.' She told him, her fingers tracing the stratches. He stayed rigid, her touch almost teasing with her gentle touches. A sudden sharp sting made him gasp, then sigh, as her fingers suddenly turned cool, soothing and healing the burn.  
"Damn, Hawke…" Varric said with a sigh, making a soft, single laugh escape her. Pain and burning gone, Hawke moved her hands off, and settled back in her slumped position in her chair,  
' If you liked that, should try one of my massages one time. Magic or no, even Carver can't say no to them.' A sudden wicked grin from the very tired looking human, made Varric raise an eyebrow, 'How else do you think I get him to come with us, most times? If I asked Mother to make him, he would just get resentful, bad enough as is.' He laughed, and shook his head, moving his silk tunic back into place on his shoulders.  
"Hard to imagine Junior being even more sulky. At least now you have Broody to turn to." He added with a suggestive wink, she made a face, and suddenly stood, saying with her head held high.  
' And just for that, you don't get to have your bed afterall.' The human then impishly kissed the top of his head, and moved purposefully to his bed area, and was out like a light. Leaving Varric sitting in his chair staring where Hawke had been just moments before. Maker, help me… Did she even get that blanket and pillow for me? Shit….


	12. Chapter 11: Varric Meets the Rivani

**Chapter Eleven**

 _Varric meets the Rivani_

"Hawke! Fuck you, wake up and let me in!" Yelling, and pounding on his door woke Varric, and nearly ended up causing him to thump to the floor from his uncomfortable position without any covers or cushions. He had decided trying to get anything after Hawke's teasing was leaving too much temptation, and instead spent the night in his favorite chair in front of a banked fire. He had at least gotten a few hours sleep, but was not looking forward to a dirty mine after last night's activities. More hammering on his door, and Carver's voice shouting "HAWKE! Now!" Made Varric sincerely want to strangle the young man. Then maybe Hawke would go home at night, and leave him his bed… Speaking of Hawke…  
Varric glanced towards the bed, looking to see if she was actually managing to sleep through her brother's racket. She did need it… But no, she was up and almost completely dressed, working on putting on her scarf with so much care she could only be doing it on purpose. She saw him watching her, and signed an apology.  
"Don't worry about it, he is loud though…" She nodded, walking over towards him with a stretch that made him have to swallow a sigh of appreciation. Then she looked down at him, turned, and lifted her tunic, showing off skinny ribs, pale flesh, and a hint of her breast binding. The only sign that anything had been wrong with her the previous night was a slight tone change almost like her side was flushed. Or as if she had lain too heavily on her side. It made him laugh, realizing what she was doing. " Alright, smart ass, I give my leave for you to do whatever crazy antics you want to do." He said with a smirk, earning a tweak on his nose as she adjusted the tunic and actually fastened her leather armour, before pulling on her overrobe and signing,  
'Better a smart ass than a dumb ass.' He laughed again, causing renewed effort from Carver.

It actually sounded like he was banging his head against the door. ' Case in point…' She signed with a roll of her eyes, before flicking her hood up, and the lovely creature that had been in his bed, again, was gone. Replaced with an almost inhuman apperation, that seemed to need neither food, nor sleep. It was definitely starting to wear on the dwarven rogue.  
"Mind just telling me what happens with Gamlen later? Unlike someone that I could mention, I didn't get much sleep." Hawke retrieved her staff, and looked back at Varric, nodding,  
'No problem, I will collect you after I get Anders, and we'll go collect Fenris together.' She then waved at the bemused dwarf, and with a parting Chest Hair sign, opened the door to reveal Carver actually thumping his head against the door… The young man glared daggers but before he could say anything, Hawke had him in hand, dragging him away to leave Varric in peace.  
Once again, his comfortable, homey even, palatial suite seemed almost too large to the surface-born, surface-loving dwarf. It had never felt so sparse, before. It felt like Hawke had taken the warmth with her, when she left and- stop this train of thought, Tethras, nothing's changed. He stood with a loud groan, his body stiff from yet another night in his chair. Why did he insist on traditional stone chairs, without any gentle curves that would mean a more comfortable seat. Maybe he should consider buying a new chair…. Nah… new cushions would do it. He also had to save his money, Bartrand was using every scrap of spare capital to fund their expedition. Even some of Varric's book sales went into the pot, hence his insistance on getting his own people into the trip, even if they also had to pay their way. Bartrand once again screwing his own brother. But if it meant getting out from under the thumb of the Merchant's Guild, it was worth it.  
The weary dwarf plodded to his bed, throwing his clothes off before crawling into the blankets. Finding it smelling like Hawke, as well as the clean scent of elfroot, and a wonderful warmth left in the bed that he suspected was a spell that the mage had left for him, made Varric smile widely, stretching out with a truly contented sigh. Having Hawke in his bed wasn't a bad thing… even if it did mean having to take care of a sudden pressing need, again...  
Something suddenly thumping on his bed woke him, much later, and Hawke's eyes shone with amusement within her hood. He had a dagger at her throat, and another aimed at her kidney, Varric was nothing if not a careful dwarf. However, he stared at her, blinking the sleep clouding his eyes.  
"Hawke…. why are you in my bed?" He asked, putting the two daggers back into their sheaths, hidden among the mattresses and pillows. She had waited until he moved the blades away to fall back, her head near his feet,  
'I told you, I would pick you up, after gathering Anders. It is almost noon.' She signed to him, her position on the bed making her damnable hood hide her eyes. He settled back against his pillows, raising an eyebrow,  
"Does not explain why you're in my bed." He pointed out, tapping her head with his blanket enshroud foot, grinning as she waved it away,  
'You were asleep, and I knew you had blades. Better to wake you up like this, besides it makes you smile.' He had to laugh, tightening his blankets over himself, just incase.  
"Alright, alright, I'm awake, but you should go wait out with Blondie, then. Unless you'd want to see a hairy dwarven ass," He teased, half wondering if she would stay, then decided now was not the time to find out, he might be pushing things again too much. "Go on, smart ass, you should make sure Blondie isn't spewing mage propaganda into the ears of someone he shouldn't. Lots of the regulars have no qualms of selling their mothers to slavers, an out-spoken apostate in a templar heavy city is asking for trouble. Add possession to self-said mage and you know Knight-Commander Meredith will have every mage in the Gallows hanged from the Harbor Chains." She sat up, waving her hands in a show of defeat, though he knew if he could see it, she would be rolling her eyes,  
'Enough, enough. I get the message.' She stood, adjusting her robe, and picking up her glaive that she had set aside before flopping into his bed. Only after she was well out of swatting distance, did she add, 'If you wanted to protect your dwarven modesty, you just had to ask!' She actually let a laugh slip as he threw one of his pillows straight at her head, but she had the door closed before it hit. The dwarf sighed loudly, blinking as he realized he was now standing on his bed. And at full attention to boot.  
"Damnit!"  
Only years of making an ass of himself, and learning to shrug it off, plus being a smart ass, anyways, got Varric out of his room, and heading back to Hawke's side. However, he had to pause at the top of the stairs, to watch a rather delightful scene play out in front of him.  
The human mage was basically being sexually molested by a Rivani woman, most likely a pirate from the looks of her. The woman's golden eyes were wide and far too keen, her dusky hands twitchy, and her prominate breasts were almost touching Hawke's chest. Hawke was trapped between the woman and a table that was far too heavy too move. And Anders was on the other side of said table, dark eyes wide with appreciation. It was a sight to behold for any red-blooded male… and only Anders and Varric knew that the robed figure that had the dark skinned woman all over him, was actually a woman. And from Hawke's body language, a very, very uncomfortable one. After letting Hawke squirm, he wasn't petty, but he did believe in revenge, he finally drawled,  
"Why Hawke! Who is your new friend?" Hawke and the Rivani both looked down at the grinning dwarf. He swore he could see daggers in Hawke's gaze, but the Rivani simply blinked, and smiled, flashing white teeth behind red painted lips. Gold flashed in her nose, and under her lower lip, the fact she still had it lending to the idea she was a pirate. Only someone with skill would be that brazen to have gold jewelry in Lowtown… unless they were very stupid.  
"Hello, Handsome, I was just trying to hire your little partner here to help me take care of some unsavory characters. My, I do like a mystery though…" She purred, looking back at Hawke, but the mage had taken her distraction as an oppertunity to sidestep and end up behind Anders. The pirate blinked at the seated mage, then followed Hawke with her eyes, like a cat watching a mouse.

"Well, Rivani, what can we help you with? Hawke, could you get me an ale, on your tab, of course." Hawke's head swivled round to stare at Varric, before throwing her hands into the air and marching over to Corff. Varric simply grinned, taking his place before the fire, Bianca placed lovingly against his chair, before he leaned back. The pirate woman raised a well-groomed eyebrow, and cocked a hip against his table.

"So you are the leader of this little band, then? I've heard whispers here and there of the notorious Hawke... Not a lot about his dwarven leader." She said, all silk and steel. He simply smirked, accepting the tankard of ale Hawke brought him, and ignoring the rude sign she shot with it.

"I perfer the term 'manager', Hawke is the field leader, and knows how to keep our little group together. I simply find him the tasks worthy of his skill and spread the word on what he's done." The dwarf said smoothly, once again ignoring a quiet snort from Hawke. The pirate nodded slowly, as if trying to figure out whether he was lying or not. Finally she shrugged, and leaned forward, showing far more clevage than even the girls at the Blooming Rose would.

"Then you should be able to help me. The name is Isabela, formerly Captain Isabela of the Siren's Call. Hawke gave me a hand before you joined us, a local thug named Haydar has been making threats, so I schedualed a duel with him, tonight, at the chantry." Varric raised an eyebrow at the woman,

"Really, a duel?" He asked, noticing a slight nod from Hawke, Isabela shrugged, smirking slightly.

"Its what I do, I duel. I like duels." She said, then looked at Hawke, a wicked smile covering her face, and she purred at the mage, "Both in public and... Private settings." Varric nearly ended up snorting his ale, coughing, and setting the tankard aside. Hawke slid it away from him, earning a reproving look, but she was now ignoring the conversation. Anders was rivetted. Varric sighed, and wiped his face, looking at Isabela with a bemused smirk,

"Alright, so you set up a duel. And?" She wrinkled her bejeweled nose, and sat up, looking almost annoyed,

"And I don't trust him. He agreed to it far too easily, even though I'm the best duelist this side of Antiva. I don't think he's going to play fair, so I want some back-up. That's where you come in." She said, plainly, looking Varric right in the eye. No more games, no more flirting, the pirate was all business now, "Look, I just need someone to watch my back. Hawke already proved he could do it, if Haydar plays fair, you just get to sit back and watch a fun fight. If not..." She shrugged, and leaned back, raising her brows at him. Varric looked at Hawke, curiously, but she simply shrugged at him, before nodding once. Well, at least this should be interesting... If not deadly,

" Alright, we'll meet you tonight, at the Chantry. Though, I have to ask, how are you going to repay us?" He pointed out, reaching out to grab his ale. Hawke moved it out of reach, again, earning a scowl, now. Isabela seemed amused by the antics, then tilted her head with a kittenish grin, black hair trying to escape her blue headscarf.

"Hey, you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. You'll be repaid, don't worry. See you tonight, then, handsome." She said, standing, and gave Hawke a saucy wink before snatching up Varric's ale. She downed it in one swallow, turned, then sashayed out of the tavern. Varric, immune to the wench's charm, did notice that every man in the place watched her leave, even Anders.

'She is all sorts of trouble.' Hawke signed, after the pirate was gone. Varric agreed, then moaned,

"And she drank my ale..." Hawke patted his arm in mock sympathy, and he glowered at her, growling in a half-joking manner, "And you still owe me four pints."

'Three! No way in the Fade do I owe you four!' She signed back, emphatically.

"I keep feeling like I'm missing so much, when you two talk to each other." Anders said to no one in particular. Both Hawke and Varric looked at him, and Hawke held up her hands in apology. Varric shrugged,

" Maybe when things settle down, Hawke will teach both you and Aveline. You're not the only one who can't sign to her." He pointed out, Hawke nodding. Anders did not look terribly convinced, but Hawke stood then, and placed a hand on the older mage's shoulder. Anders looked up at her, startled, and then gave a hopeful smile, squeezing her hand, before standing as well.

" It seems I have no choice, hopefully this will be one of those things I pick up quickly. Most lessons need a brick to get into my thick skull. Oh! I wonder, you do write, yes? Excellent! At least we can communicate that way. Shall I see you outside? I'm going to purchase some parchment, quills, and inkstones, this will be wonderful! Finally an intelligent conversation..." He rambled, moving towards the door. Hawke disengaged from him, stumbling back to Varric, and signing,

'Maker what have I done?' Varric laughed, smirking evily,

"Why, Hawke, it looks like you have thrown a bone to the lovesick puppy, just wait, he's going to talk to your mother soon, I'm sure! Can I be the maid of honour? I would look absolutely wonderful in peach chaffon! Ow!" He had to laugh, loudly, as Hawke suddenly had his head in the crook of her arm, and rougly dragging her knuckles against his skull. But he was a rogue. She was, but a mage. He escaped her grip, and was nearly by the door before she had righted her-self, Bianca settled easily on his shoulder. Corff and Nora were looking at the dwarf in surprise, as he hardly, if ever, showed how quick he really was in an everyday setting. Hawke was shaking in silent laughter, and actually having to use her glaive to keep her-self standing, and signed as she passed her dwarven friend,

'You are an evil dwarf, Chest Hair.' He matched her stride, grinning,

"From you, I'll take that as a compliment, Hawke."

'Never meant it otherwise,'


	13. Chapter 12: Varric is amused insulated

**Chapter 12**

 _Varric is both Amused and Insulted_

They met Anders in the midst of a lecture with the scribe merchant, something about the practices in Ferelden versus those in the Anderfels. Varric ended up having to pay for the supplies Anders was wanting, simply because the merchant was so offended by whatever Anders was talking about, the mage was going to pay a gold per inkstone. Without realizing it.

"Maker's bearded chin, Blondie, how did you ever manage NOT to get caught before now?" Varric asked, more then a little miffed about spending his own money on the mage. Hawke had tried, but her condition made it impossible to actually get the merchant's attention, during the heated "discussion". Anders, at least, had the decency to look sheepish, as they made their way back towards the Chantry, to get Fenris. Apparently Hubert had sent a scathing message to both Hawke and Varric, during the morning, while Hawke and Carver were confronting Gamlen. Varric of course had yet to get his day's messages, but Hawke felt the need to actually get the job done.

"I will pay you back, I had no idea the gentleman was getting so upset." Varric sighed, and Hawke covered her eyes, under her hood,

"Blondie, that 'gentleman' as you kept calling him... Was a woman." The mage stopped dead in the middle of the street, his eyes wide, gripping his head in his hands,

"Maker's breath, are you serious? Bloody damn, no wonder she wanted to skin me alive! I-" Hawke suddenly whistled, getting at least Varric's attention. Anders kept berating himself, Hawke was standing at the edge of the courtyard that led to the Chantry, and signaled them to come, quickly.

Varric was at her side without a second thought, and joined Hawke in watching as a well-groomed young man in a white with gold trim cloak was argueing with the Mother Superior.

"Sebastian, the Chantry cannot codone this ruthless act!" The Mother was scolding, as the young man placed a scroll on the notice board. Red-haired, dark skinned, the young man was attractive by human standards, and Varric felt a twinge of annoyance, noticing how closely Hawke was watching the man. The young man, Sebastian, gave an apologetic frown to the mother,

" I cannot allow this atrocity to go unpunished, your worship, something must be done." He told her firmly, nailing in the scroll with a ferocity that begrudged his gentle tone. He put the hammer down, and started towards a path that led to the Chantry's quarters. The Mother, the head of the Chantry in Kirkwall, an older human woman with gray-brown hair, and clear gray eyes that saw everything for what it was, shook her head firmly, reaching up to tear the scroll down.

"But why you, Sebastian? This is for the law to deal with, not a-" An arrow suddenly quivered in the middle of the scroll, halting her attempt to tear it down. Sebastian had thrown back his cloak, revealing gold, and silver washed armor, with white leather and mother-of-pearl decorations. Varric found him-self whistling at the sight of it, that armor alone would cover the trip to the Deep Roads. The ivory and white beech bow in the man's hands made him give the young man another point.

"I am a proud prince of Starkhaven! I am the last of my line, and I must see justice carried out against those who have wronged my family!" He shouted. The Chantry Mother turned angry and aggrived eyes upon the young man, speaking to him as if he were a stubborn child,

"You would put aside the vows you made to the Maker and his Bride, over a man's vengence, not justice. The Maker forgives many things, but you are no better than the men who killed your family, if you persue this. I hope whoever reads your scroll rips it down and throws it into the garbage, before it stains you. I will have no further part with it." She turned, and stormed up the stairs to the Chantry, the young man following and trying to argue his cause to deaf ears.

Hawke moved forward then, and carefullly removed the missive from the board, having to carefully rip the parchment in order to do so. The arrow was dug deep into the wood, and would be a task to remove.

"What's it say, Hawke?" Varric asked, curiously, coming up to her side. She handed it to him, and he grunted in amusement, "Maker, that choirboy writes like a prince from a play! Almost as bad as Broody. Assassins, and mercanries, and rewards from a prince, oh my. Shall we stain our souls in the eyes of the Maker by taking care of this for the choirboy prince?" He asked, handing the parchment back to the young woman. Even under the layers of scarf and hood, he could see her grin,

' I am a stain in the eyes of the Maker, anyway, so might as well make it so the choirboy remains pearly white. Did you see his cod-piece?' She asked suddenly, making him blink, and raise an eyebrow,

"I can't say I did, I typically do not oogle another man's piece. Even if I typically would get the best view in the world for such things. Would be too much masculinity to go around," He said, casually, though trying to figure out how in the world would she get the vibe that he may enjoy other men, when she actually released a laugh before it was swallowed again by her mark.

'No, no, no, no, not like that. Maker's dick, not like that.'

"Hey, now, I'm beginning to feel insulted, can we stop talking about dicks?" He asked, looking up at her. She knelt down, wrapping her arm around his shoulders, and nudged her head against his, before signing,

' I know you are no man's dwarf, Varric, believe me.' She said, actually pulling her hood back slightly to make it easier for him to see her eyes. He relaxed, and flicked between her eyebrows,

" Alright, Hawke, no harm done. So, no I did not see his cod-piece, why?" Hawke studied him a momet, then her eyes smiled, clapping his shoulder before standing, and signing as she moved towards the mansion Fenris was squatting in,

' I think he has a carving of a woman's face on it.'

"Shit, really?! Now I am sorry I didn't look at his dick!"

"Why in the seven hells are you talking about a man's ahh manhood?" Anders butted in, catching up, looking forlorn, once again. Varric laughed, and looked up at the mage, grinning.

"Hawke said that the prince had a woman's face carved into his cod-piece." Now it was Anders turn to stare, pausing, before shaking his head, looking horrified,

"Why would you want to see that?"

"Because it would be hilarious to see! He's a prince sworn to the Chantry, and he has a woman's face on his groin!" Varric looked up at Anders, grinning, and shook his head at the bewildered mage, "Do you not see the irony in this?"

"No, and I do not think I want to."


	14. Chapter 13: Varric angers Hawke

**Chapter 13**

 _Varric Angers Hawke_

The walk to Fenris' was filled with laughter, and Hawke tried her hardest to include Anders, exaggerating movements, and acting things out that had Varric trying not to cry he was laughing so much. The mage smiled, politely, but for the most part, seemed to not understand anything. However, when Fenris was added, there seemed to be a renewed interesting in trying to figure out how to communicate with Hawke, through magic. Something that made Fenris scowl, and he ended up completely ignoring the conversation.

Hawke led the way to the city gates, tilting her head back to stare at the giant bronze statues out in the harbor. The Twins, as the two statues were called, were glowing in the sun, though the huge chains were black and dull, looking ugly to see against the shining metal of the slaves, seemingly bowed under the weight. Varric never cared for Tevintar artwork, even though Kirkwall used to belong to them. The sight of the rather hopeless looking Twins always made him wrinkle his nose in distaste. Either coming or going, he always made sure to avoid paying attention to them. But Hawke seemed enchanted by them, and had to ask,

"Something you like?" The sign that came was short, and quick,

'No.' He looked at her curiously, and she looked away from the statues, and out towards the coastline, beyond, a sigh escaping her, 'They are ugly, discouraging, horrible testiments to a terrible period in Kirkwall's history. And every time I see them, I want to melt them down.' That surprised Varric, and it must've shown. Her eyes turned down to him, and there was a smile there, shrugging at him, 'No, I would not really ever do it, as they also remind me that there are those worse off, and those I can bring up.' She patted his shoulder, a twinkle in her eyes suddenly, 'And if I can at least get my friends and family in better positions, then I'll be able to stand those statues.' A snort from Fenris made them both look at the glaring elf, but he did not look at them. Anders looked at Varric, for explaination, but the dwarf just shrugged.

"Don't ask me, Blondie. Hawke was just talking about how she hates the Twins, and wants to get us into a better place in the world." He said, Fenris rolled his eyes,

" Oh to have such a idealistic view of the world." The look that Hawke gave the elf left Varric still, and Fenris subsided, moving slightly ahead. She shook her head irritably, and Varric gave her a wink, having to grin,

"Well, I think once we take care of the Deep Roads, we all shall be better off, just wait and see."

' I hope you are right, Chest Hair, I want to see my family happy again.' She signed, a bit slowly. Then she shook her-self, and suddenly slid her glaive from its sheath on her shoulder, and twirled her glaive in front of her, slamming the mace into the ground. Lightning came from no where, striking a group of mercanaries that had been milling around at the crossroads. Varric watched a couple simply fall and lay mostly still, save for the occasional twitch, while the rest stood stunned twitching in odd ways. Fenris leapt forward with a roar, swinging his gigantic sword like it weighed no more than a stalk of wheat. Anders jogged up, looking a little guilty but quickly started to shout his usual taunts while throwing fireballs. Hawke glanced down at Varric, who had been watching the sight with an amused smirk, then nudged him gently, all of their weapons suddenly frosted over and shedding an etheral light from her enchantment, 'That is your que, Chest Hair.' She signed, a smile clear in those mismatched eyes. He grinned back, swinging his glowing Bianc to his chest,

"That it is, Hawke." They sprang apart then, as a bulging barbarian managed to get past Fenris raced to try to put down the mage who shocked him so badly. Varric fired several pot shots into the man's armor, while Hawke threw a fireball of her own into his other side. The man stood still a moment, half frozen and bloody, the other half ablaze, and simply toppled over. They exchanged a look, and had to laugh, helping the other two with the remaining mercanaries.

They collected some new weapons for Fenris and Hawke's brother, as well as a few more trinkets that proved to have more than just intrinsic value, but nothing of any import. Making sure there was nothing else to deal with, they came to the road that led to the Bone Pit, pausing a moment at the sign. Someone had carved in several warnings... And a few curses upon the quarry.

' Charming, no? Almost seems quaint, I do so love a clear message of danger, do not you?' Hawke signed, as they passed it, earning a grin and a quirked eyebrow,

"Were you trying to sign that with an Orlesian accent? Cause I read that with one." The delighted laugh that escaped her made Varric pause to look at Hawke, a bit surprised. She was nodding firmly, her laughter maybe silent but it was obvious she was laughing, hard. Both Fenris, who could read her signs, and Anders, who could not, looked completely bewildered. She finally calmed down, and let out a breath, Varric having to grin at her, "Feeling better? I think you made those two worry you were possessed or something." Anders winced visably, and Fenris raised an eyebrow, but other then that they didn't speak. She nodded again, before signing,

'Maker, yes! I have missed someone knowing that!' She suddenly stopped them, spreading her staff and arms in front of them, pointing ahead.

The Bone Pit was a quarry from the time that Tevintar occupied Kirkwall, originally named the Maharian Quarry, the infamy surrounding it made every citizen of Kirkwall avoid it, like the Blight. Which is why the current owner, Hubert, hired Fereldan miners. The thinness of the Veil in the area did not help the matters, making most elves avoid the area.

The area was sparse, rocky, and gray with only a few withered trees, and dry weeds to break up the view. It was a depressing sight, and one Varric had tried to avoid visiting. He wrinkled his nose in distaste, but didn't see any reason why Hawke would... Ah. The smell of burning flesh. It hit him like a punch to the face, a scent he had caught only a couple times, but could never forget. Fenris gave a soft growl, and pulled his weapon to stand with it outstretched. Bianca was in Varric's hand without a thought, and he glanced through the scope, but other then a broken work tent, nothing was in sight.

"Well, better find out who caused this mess. Last I saw of Hubert, he was tearing out his well maintained mustache." He said, smirking at Hawke. She glanced at him in amusement, shouldering her glaive, and they spread out, looking for answers.

The quarry path to the flats, where the quarry had started clearing for expansion, had been blocked. Anders however shouted at Hawke, sounding excited. Varric and Fenris followed behind, comparing notes on their findings.

"Look!" He said, excited, thrusting a bundle of leaves into Hawke's hands. She studied them, carefully, and nodded at him, encouraging. Varric raised an eyebrow, having to look at the leaves himself, they were a strange silvery tinge, turning green at the stalk, while the tips darkened to a deep purple.

"Fancy?"

"Royal Elfroot! It doesn't grow so far north, but here it is! A healthy, thriving specimen that is protected by the mine itself! They love dim, wet areas, but here it is bright and dry, remarkable!" He exclaimed, before kneeling down, writing a series of marks in the ground. They flashed, then dimmed, leaving a carefully scrawled warning, "There! Now the miners won't be able to damage the plant in anyway, and we can collect a few samples whenever we come near this area."

" And this is good?" Fenris asked, folding his arms and looking annoyed... Although that just might be his normal expression, Varric decided. Anders looked at Fenris with surprise,

" Of course! Not including the multiple magical uses for the plant," Varric had to grin slightly watching the elf move slightly away from the plant. Anders frowned a bit at the elf, but pressed on, dauntless, " It also has many healing properties, and doubles natural healing speed. Its better than normal elfroot, with all its uses." He said, looking down at Hawke, hopefully. She nodded, at him, and carefully pulled a sack from one of her concealed pockets, handing it to him, before gesturing for him to hurry up. Then she turned and moved towards the only mine-shaft that was open, standing in front of it. Varric and Fenris followed after her, and it was the elf that asked,

" Is something wrong?" She turned her hooded head towards him, and seemed to hesitate before a soft sigh escaped her,

'Memories, nothing more.' She signed, with a finality that begged no other questions.

They entered the mine tunnel, both Hawke and Anders' staff-weapons producing light. Fenris, being Fenris, created his own torch and lit it by hand. Varric, dwarf that he was, even surface-born, could see well enough, but appreciated the light from the tall ones. They saw evidence of a struggle, blood splatters, and discarded mining tools, but no bodies. Scratches in the stone made them wary, and rather large cobwebs earned a snort of amusement from Hawke,

'Just like home.' She signed, ironically, 'Watch for traps.'

" You insult me, Hawke, I always look for traps!" Varric said, in haughty tones. Then he stepped on a near invisible strand of silk. A chitter and a hiss made Hawke look straight at the merchant-prince, who looked back, and deadpanned, "Man made traps, never said anything about critter made. How was I supposed to know damned spiders make traps?" He asked, swinging Bianca into position as spiders the size of pigs decended from crevices and hidden holes above.

"Giant spiders!" Anders yelled, spinning his staff creating a handful of flames that sent a pair squeaking and clicking into hiding, their bloated asses smoking.

"Will you stop this incessant characterization of every monstrosity that we fight?!" Fenris snapped then, slicing a spider in half as it tried to jump towards them. Hawke squashed one of the little monsters with the mace end of her glaive, while sending another one flying with a sharp kick from her boot. Varric kept dancing about, the spiders too close to actually shoot, and he couldn't bear the thought of using his darling Bianca to actually smash any of them. He did manage a lucky shot through one, who got a bit too close. There weren't many, and giant spiders typically can't do a lot to a group of their size, it didn't stop the little menaces from snapping at him with those nasty mandables. It also didn't stop the bastards from catching him in their webs.

Hawke, of course, had his back, and managed not to catch his duster on fire while freeing the dwarf. She gave him a look, and went back check that all the spiders were either dead or gone, but when they finished, Hawke walked over and bopped him on the head, none too gently. Then she grabbed his chin hard, and forcing him to meet her gaze.

"You little idiot! You have more than Bianca to attack, now stop-" She managed to shout, anger allowing the seal to weaken for a few moments, Hawke's intense gaze boring down on him. He gave a slight, abeit sheepish, grin, nodding at her, and she turned away, stalking forward her boots leaving frosty patches on the stone floor. He waited a moment, to make sure she wouldn't yell some more, then released a breath, before digging into one of his pockets and retreving a long and nasty dagger-like item. He hated using the thing, but he knew Hawke would have his ass on a platter if he tried avoiding using Bianca in another fight. With a mild grumble, he screwed in the bayonet, studying his beloved crossbow to make sure the blade weapon was in properly. Bad enough to have to adjust for the new weight, but it could be deadly if it also caused Bianca aim to be off. Satisfied, the dwarf caught up with the others, shouldering Bianca and looking at Hawke,

"Better?" He asked, tapping the crossbow against his shoulder. She glanced back at him, then nodded once, firmly, before seeming to relax slightly. Anders waited until the other mage was busy going over a broadsword with Fenris, to see if it might be any better for the elf, then muttered to Varric,

" And here I thought you two were all but inseperable. She seemed to give you a right thrashing, there? Her voice was a bit muffled, but I am trying to get a better read on her! She does seem a bit on edge in here did you notice?" He asked, Varric looking up at the human with a bland expression,

"Noooo Blondie, I didn't notice that, at all." Anders looked at the dwarf a moment, then frowned,

"Alright, smart ass, why is she on edge then?"

"Better a smart ass than a dumb ass." Varric replied, remembering Hawke using that phrase with him just that morning. He liked it, and was pleased to be able to use it, in practical application, so quickly. But on to Anders actual question, "No, I don't know why she's tense, all I know is she wanted this done, quickly. I don't know, Blondie, maybe she's claustraphobic or something." He said with a slightly irritated shrug. He didn't like not knowing what was up, and Anders was a lot less scattered than he had been, making his comments hit home a bit more. Anders raised his brows at the dwarf, who frowned back, " How am I supposed to know, I've known her only a day longer than you have."

"Hmph," The mage huffed, scratching his beard in annoyance, a flicker of blue in his gaze, before he sighed, shaking his head, "Just concerned, I suppose, neither one of us know what is wrong, and if you can't get an answer from her, than I just get a feeling something deeper is going on. She seems to have come to rely on you, greatly, already, hence my surprise." He said with a shrug. Varric gave him a smirk, elbowing the mage in the thigh,

"Hey, I don't have an answer, yet, doesn't mean I'm giving up. She is an egnima, Hawke, and I do enjoy weasling things out." The dwarf then swaggered forward, and led the way further down into the mine, with Hawke ending up right behind him, keen to get this over with. Varric waited until they hit a wider tunnel, before moving to walk beside her. "We good?" He asked, keeping an eye forward. Hawke made no signs for a while, allowing Varric time enough to start to worry a bit.

' Yeah, was just worried about you. Just too many memories. Sorry for being skitish, lets finish here, quick, please.' She finally signed, relaxing slightly, nudging him a bit. He grinned at her, with a wink,

"Sure, but you owe me four pints, and a story." Hawke snorted, and bopped his head lightly, her eyes aglow. Varric smirked, feeling the tension desolving, when she suddenly grabbed his arm and swung him behind her, holding her glaive up, a glowing golden shield appearing in front of them, just as a blast of heat hit him. Something chirpped, then hissed and Hawke grunted, holding the shield, her arms shaking,

"Fenris! Bring that heavy blade of yours cause we've got trouble!" Varric yelled, unable to see beyond the glow of the shield, but with a mental apology, started shooting through the shield to whatever was there. Bianca apparently hit something, as a shriek filled the tunnel, answered by several snaps and hisses. He stationed himself beside Hawke, filling the tunnel ahead with bolts, Fenris having to edge to the side, before launching himself forward with a roar. Shrieks and growls answered him, and Hawke was able to drop the shield, with a gasp, falling back.

"Hawke, get back!" Anders ordered, racing in front of her, earning an eyeroll from Varric, who waited for the mage to yell, again. "Dragonlings!"

"Right on que," He muttered, actually aiming Bianca, Hawke nodding beside him, panting behind her scarf. " You alright?" She gave a nod, as he shot a bolt right through a dragonling's eye, racking the crossbow, and hitting another in the neck, as it started to spat fire at Anders. The bolt gagged the beast, its throat glowing and it ended up scratching out its own throat, while trying not to cook from the inside. The next shot ended up flaring with frost, and the dragonling squealed in pain, unable to stand the cold. A glance at Hawke earned a nod, her hood hiding her eyes from him, but the additon of the frost weapondry finished the fight in moments.

"Well... Now we know what spooked the miners." Anders said, as he started the rather unappealing job of getting as much usable materials from the immature dragons, as possible. Dragonlings weren't particularly rare, and dragon eggs could survive ages before they hatched, only when conditions were right. Some actually fozzilized, but remained viable. The stories of wealthy folk buying an ancient dragon egg as a exhibit piece, only to end up having a dragonling eating their servants, always made Varric laugh. But while common, they weren't easy to put down, and their hide was useful, unlike their still immature wings. Dragons, drakes, and high dragons were far more useful, but each more deadly than the last, the last high dragon actually killed was slain by the Hero of Feralden.

"Hold skinning them for now, mage." Fenris growled, glancing back at the older man, "There are more ahead, we were hired to make sure the mine is clear."

"Then lead the way oh elf of the keen sense." Varric intoned, giving a mock bow, and earning odd looks from the two other men. Hawke actually turned away a moment, shoulders shaking, before bopping him on the head, and they both followed the men.


	15. Chapter 14: Varric annoys a Dragon

Two tunnels, and another chamber filled with dragonlings and a couple of tougher drakes, later, they were climbing through a hollow they stumbled across while making sure to gather anything of value. Anders ended up finding a vein of some sort of metal he was excited about. He set up the same ward he had for the plant, and said it was useful for everything from potions to poisons, but not of value to everyday people.

Varric and Hawke were in the lead again, with Fenris close behind, and Anders trailing. Hawke insisted on being in the lead, for some protective reasoning that she didn't wish to elabrate on. Varric also had to be in the lead, contastly checking for both manmade traps, and otherwise. They nearly ended up skwering a miner who came flying out of no where, grabbing Hawke and shrieking,

"The monster! It ate everyone, everyone! We must run! Flee! Get out of this bloody pit!" He yelled, into her covered face. Varric reached out to grab him, but Hawke shook her head, and gently moved the man to the rear, to Anders, who stilled him and gave a spare weapon to him, before letting him know they had cleared off all the dragonlings so far. Hearing that, the man fled, without a second look.

"That was tactfully done." Varric remarked, and Hawke shrugged, signing,

'Fear does strange things to people, he needed to know he could get out, but a word wouldn't have been enough. Anders has a claw from one of the beasts, for whatever purpose, but it was enough to calm him and let him go home.' Varric nodded slightly, raising an eyebrow at the woman, curious. But she offered no explaination, and they continued, to face whatever beast had driven the man nearly mad with fear. The tunnel led further down until it suddenly opened into a large cavern. Sunlight streamed in from a distant fissure. A trail of bones and animal carcasses led to the center...

" Is that a dragon...?" Varric asked quietly, earning a nod from Hawke, who also seemed surprised, "What is a dragon doing here in Kirkwall?!" He raised his voice, somewhat, indignately, and earned a hiss, from the large dragon in the middle of the cavern.

The female mature dragon stretched out her large wings, staring right at their group. A puff of her chest, and Hawke threw everyone apart before the fireball hit. Fenris was on his feet a moment later, charging the dragon with a roar that was answered back with a swat of the beast's wing. It was only his strange ability to pass through things that saved him from being knocked into the wall. Instead the elf ended up raking his sword through the creature's wing as he passed through it, making the dragon shriek in pain and rage, then give a squeal as his iced blade suddenly dug into its tender underside.

Fenris continued his path, raking the sword under the dragon entirely. But it was a mature female, and the dragon's scales were thicker than those they'd faught this far. The dragon had a long bleeding gash, but nothing more, and it was now leery of the elf who had literally ghosted through its wing.

Hawke suddenly was in front of the dragon, catching its attention before sending out a wave of ice that made the beast rear up or be caught by the blast. The dragon distracted by the new threat, Fenris sliced through its other wing, Varric pelted the beast with ice shots, whooping when Bianca managed to get the dragon's eye.

"Dance with me, precious, I'll show you a thing or two!" He crowed, before saying "Whooops!"And he dodged behind a rocky outcropping, a blast of fire singeing the edge of his duster, "Damnit, do you know how expensive this will be to mend!?" He yelled, sending several more bolts at the dragon,

"Who are you yelling at, as I don't think the dragon cares!" Anders called from the other side, the dragon getting hits on both Hawke and Fenris, so he was focusing on keeping them both alive... Something that made Fenris fight even more fiercely.

" Its a dragon, it is known for being intelligent, so she should pay for the damages!"

"Well, maybe she didn't like you telling her to dance with her. And how is she supposed to pay for your laundry bill?"

" It made a great line, and makes me feel better. And the laundry is run by the Merchant's Guild, its going to cost every half copper from her hoarde to get my duster back into fighting shape!"

"Its a ram skin duster, how expensive can it actually be- hold that thought!" Anders called, scrambling out of his spot, when Hawke suddenly landed an ice bolt into the creature's maw. The dragon gagged, and reared again, but was unbalanced with both wings ragged. It ended up stumbling and falling where the mage had been before. Hawke signed a sorry, just as the dragon loosed an ear splitting scream that staggered all of them, each clutching their heads.

They were given only a moment to recover, when a swarm of dragonlings appeared, burrowing through the rock, and squeezing through crevices that seemed only a nug could fit through. The each were attacked by at least two dragonlings, desprate to protect their mother. The dragon took the oppertunity to right itself, and recooperate, climbing to a high perch to spit fireballs in all directions. Hawke recovered first, and slammed the ground, with glowing hands, again. The flash was still blinding, but everyone was prepared for it, and they were now on equal footing, with many of the dragonlings dazed, and others shaking it off and snapping at them once again. Varric skwered one with the bayonet on Bianca, before sending a steady stream of bolts into any that was starting to move. Being peppered with frost bolts seemed to make them a tad angry, and Varric found him-self having to duck, weave, jump, and dash more then he had before.

"Much more of this and all I'll be able to do is bullshit them! And they don't seem to like bullshit!"

" Of course not, dwarf, they're man-eating dragons, not man-eating plants!" Fenris yelled, shoving a dragonling off his blade, before having to leapt away from a fireball. Varric had to laugh, as he leapt from one spot, firing a volley of bolts before having to run from snapping jaws,

"Then I'm alright! I'm a dwarf, they'll just spit me back out!"

"Quick, lets all hide behind the dwarf, and hope the dragon chokes!" Anders quipped, while wrestling his staff away from a rather playful dragonling. Again, Varric laughed, while sending a rain of bolts into the dragonlings that were following him like ducklings.

"Score one for the elf, three for the mage, and ten for the dwarf!" He yelled, nearly running into Hawke, who used him as a vaulting board, to ram the sharp end of her glaive into a dragonling who Varric hadn't clocked, before spinning to sign,

'Less quipping more killing!'

"Hawke wins with a killing blow of fifteen!" He said, making her roll her eyes, as he shot a dragonling behind her and she a dragonling behind him,

'I'll show you how to really play the game later,'

" I'll hold you to that!"

' But you lose a pint, if you do.'

"But I'm on six now, so I'm fine with that."

'The hell you are!' He grinned, and they swung around, the frosted dragonlings from his attacks being more suceptable to her fireballs. Varric was amused to find that the dragonlings she had lashed with lightning ended up nearly exploding when he shot them with the frost bolts

" I'll show you the spreadsheet later."

' And I'm going to read back over our contract to make sure!' He laughed again, and saluted her, grinning, and watched her use the last dragonling to leapt up and actually land another hit on the dragon.

The beast shrieked, actually loosing its footing and ended up crushing the rest of the dragonlings as it flailed on the ledge the were fighting on. Hawke and Fenris both began to lay into the dragon as it tried to right itself. The dragon screamed and snapped at them, nearly taking a chunk out of Fenris's arm. Hawke iced the dragon's maw again, before suddenly smashing its jaw with the mace end of her glaive, shattering the bone, and stunning the beast. The creature's head waved a bit, dazed, even while Fenris managed to pierce its hard scales. Finally, it roared, righting itself, swatting them both away, and stood on its back legs to shriek, waving its head about spraying flame around desprately.

Hawke skirted around, and Varric aimed Bianca at the creature's back leg, while it was still raised up. Fenris attacked the other at the same time, and Hawke suddenly was on its shoulders, and gave an audible cry as she brought her glaive down on the beast. Instead of ice, like Varric was expecting. Bolts of lightning flared and struck the dragon's head. A high pitched scream came from the beast, but it fell silent and dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. Hawke rolled off, and came up to her feet, panting heavily, staff at ready. When Fenris gave the all-clear, she relaxed for just a moment, before dropping her rump on the ground and falling back.

"You alright there, Hawke?" Anders asked, examining the area for anything worthwhile, while Fenris walked around the dragon and dragonlings, making certain every one was dead. Varric plodded beside her, looking down at the human woman, and raised an eyebrow at her. She raised a hand, making a 'fine' sign, but with her on the ground, Varric could actually see that line of flesh around her closed eyes. She was pale, paler then normal, really, and was covered with a sheen of sweat.

"You did too much, and you were going to meet that Rivani tonight, as well." He said, both mocking and reproving. She opened an eye, a slight frown visable, but the look on Varric's face made her sigh,

'I still have to go, if we are to get a reputation to help whomever, then I have to.' She signed, the look on her face bleak. He sat down beside her, with a groan,

"Aagh, I'm getting too old for this shit." She lightly smacked his arm, making him grin at her, "I may be a dwarf, but I am allowed to feel my age, thank you." She rolled her eyes, and he flicked her forehead, in reply. He leaned back, bracing against his arms, watching Fenris and Anders begin to bicker over the proper way to harvest everything from the dragon and dragonlings. Hawke maimed banging their heads together, like a cymbol, making Varric grin, "Those two are like fire and lyrium, keep them together too long..."

'And they'll explode, I know. But Anders is an excellent healer, I know I would not be able to heal nearly as well.'

"That's because you're better at knocking everyone out a one time." She flapped a hand at him, her eyes closed. "So, what are you going to do?"

'I am resting, I am going to drink a potion once the boys are done judging who has the biggest dick. Afterwards I will spend some time recooping before going on to the Chantry. You and the boys are free to come with me,' She signed, finally sitting up and leaning slightly against him. The two men were still fighting, but in a less aggressive way. They were piling their collected parts in two seperate piles, and, from the looks of it, Fenris was currently winning... But only just.

" And the dwarf finds a buyer for fresh dragon bits." Varric said dryly, nudging her gently, trying to keep his mind off of feeling her against his shoulder, it felt so natural, so comfortable, if he wasn't careful he'd have his arm around that thin waist of hers and try to find some uncovered flesh... Knock it off, Tethras!

' I did say you were free to come, but you were entrusted with the sale of all items.' She signed, nudging him back, before looking back down at him, those enchanting eyes of her aglow in the depths of her heavy hood, once again. He gave her a smirk and a wink,

" Anybody else, you'd end up with only a quarter of what you should get. But I'll be there." Then he gave her a wide, saucey grin, "Someone has to protect you from the big bad Rivani pirate." She gave a shudder, making a sign against evil, and he had to laugh.

' You laugh, how would you like another man rubbing his dick in your face?'

"First, its not the same, second, I'm a dwarf, it has happened, and third, I punched the gentlemen in said appendage," He answered, smoothly, a smirk on his face as he looked up at the human mage. Her eyes closed, and he just knew she was making a face at him behind her damnable scarf, "You've been around me too much, Hawke, I can tell when your pulling tongues." He said with a grin, earning a snort from her.

'Point still stands! I swear I could see the various diseases crawling over her skin." She gave another exaggerated shudder, making Varric chuckle, and rest slightly against her, smiling. He was... Comfortable. Relaxed, even. They were down in a mine, with dead giant lizards all around, blood and sweat making his armour stick to him, and he was still comfortable. It wasn't that often that he found him-self relaxed with another person. He hadn't made it so long by being relaxed. Even when around Bartrand, he was always on edge, even if he protrayed himself as being rather laidback. He always had a hand near a weapon, and a careful response ready to keep a potential fight from breaking out.

Hawke, was a calming presence, when she wasn't in "scary mode", and trying to protect everyone over herself. And she seemed to be relaxed now, that the dragon was put down. Varric would have to ask, later, what was going on. But for now, he was content. He had a clear-cut job to do, later, but for now, he was enjoying some witty banter with his new friend... He knew it wasn't helping his attraction to the younger human, but Void take it, it had been years since he last had someone he could relax with.

'Looks like its time to judge who won their pissing match.' Hawke suddenly signed, dragging Varric away from his revelry, as she stood. He did try not to watch as she dusted off her rump, but it was right there, and he had to look towards the two men who were coming near them, the same direction that Hawke chose to face. He did admire the view though, even through heavy robes, and armor.

"So, how're we judging them, quality or quantity, cause from where I'm sitting, it looks like Broody has the lead in the latter." He said, trying to distract himself away from watching her. She turned, to sign towards him, a small sigh escaping him as her shapely rump moved away from his line of sight.

'Quality of course, means more money for it.' She told him, before offering him her hand, her eyes gleaming in her hood, 'Come on, Old Timer, time to earn your keep.' His eyes narrowed, but he accepted the hand up, and said in haughty tones,

"Old Timer, my ass, I'm only ten years your senior at the most! And I earned my keep while you were sleeping in my bed, this is just extra, so you owe me a pint for traipsing about this dank cave. And another for saving your skinny ass from the Rivani." He added, earning a flash from her eyes.

'Shit, that is six pints I owe you, already. Your bar tab will be more expensive than the trip!' She signed with a roll of her eyes, before flicking his nose lightly, 'And keep my ass out of it, since I had to save your's today, from spiders!'

"Hey, they were GIANT spiders, and I did put my blade on Bianca, in the end, thank you, very much." He drawled, flapping her hand away from his nose. A single laugh came from Hawke, and they went to join the men who were eyeing each other in an unfriendly way. Hawke seemed to know how to skin things a bit better than either man, and ended up dragging both of them over to see how it was supposed to be done. Varric just stood back and watched, trying not to grin, as the two idiots tried not to look shamefaced as Hawke made them redo pretty much every piece of dragon hide.

 **Author's Note: So, so very sorry for the hideously long delay! Wow, so many people adding this to their watch list, thank you! To make up for it, here are two new shiny chapters! I hope you enjoy these, and I will be working on more chapters to hopefully post in a far more timely manner.**


	16. Chapter 15: Varric recieves a Gift

The team returned to town and agreed to meet at the chantry after nightfall, giving Hawke enough time to actually rest., Varric enough time to sell the hides, Blondie time to heal some patients, and Broody time to... brood? Sharpen his armor? Adjust his silver hair so it covered his eye just right? Who knew. Varric just knew he was glad to know Hawke was getting some rest, after the day they had.

Some time passed as letters with offers and counter-offers flowed out of the Hanged Man, until the merchant-prince of Kirkwall finally passed three boys a silver each to take the skins to their new owner, before making a detailed account for each party member to earn a stippen, and placing the money into a very safe location, well away from twitchy hands of any class.

The dwarf was just about to consider a pint for the job well done, when Hawke came into his room. She paused a moment to look over the sea of paperwork, head tilting in a bemused sort of way. Varric just grinned, sitting back in his chair, resting his arms behind his head.

"Hawke! Just in time, you can buy me a drink. We've earned enough that you should be able to pay off your tab, and still have money left over." She rolled her eyes, before dumping her backpack from her shoulders, pulling some copper coins from one of her hidden pockets, and exited for a few minutes. Varric relaxed into his position, his grin turning into a self-satisfied smile, whistling a tune to him-self. Hawke came back with a mug of ale, placing it just out of reach, again. He raised an eyebrow, almost pouting.

'Show me your work, then you will get your pint.' She said, pulling her scarf down to smile at him. Varric grinned back, and sat up, grabbing the paper work, going through each note while she leaned over the back of his chair, reading with him. He smiled at the paperwork, feeling her warmth over his head, it was distracting him slightly.

But Varric was immensely proud of his work today. He got deals from potion and poison makers for the knowledge of the elfroot they found, the skins, the weapons, and armour, and the junk they gathered. Not to mention the fee for actually cleaning out the mine. All told they each had a gold soverign and fifty silver, not a bad pay day from items alone. As long as Gamlen didn't find her stash, they had almost ten gold pieces already.

'Well done, Chest Hair.' Hawke signed, her hands over him so he could see, without being in his face. She then made a "come here" gesture towards the pint, and Varric grinned as it slide along the table to his waiting hand. He took a deep draught, then sighed, grinning up at her,

"That is a verrrry useful talent." She raised an amused eyebrow, before pushing away from his stone chair, pulling up her scarf and pulling down her hood, just as Norah came in. The proprietess was brushing off Varric's duster, a slight frown on her ruddy face.

"Master Tethras, your coat has returned from the cleaners. I'm not sure they got all the stains out though, and its- oh!" She stopped to look at Hawke, in surprise at the human standing at Varric's side, looking for all purposes, like a bodyguard. Varric's mischevious streak surfaced, and he looked up at Hawke,

"That's all for now, Hawke take a break." The look she gave him, made the dwarf burst out laughing. Norah simply looked on, an awkward smile on her face. Hawke came over and gently took the duster from the other woman. Norah tightened her grip on the overcoat, but released it after a moment, earning a nod from Hawke. Norah stayed still a moment, looking from Hawke, to Varric, and back, her brow furrowing. Hawke looked at her again, her head faced away from Varric so all he saw was Norah suddenly flush, bob a curtsy and all, but flee from the room.

"Please don't scare my landlady, she'll charge me extra," Varric told her with a grin, holding his hands out to receive the prized coat. Instead, she moved it to the table, before picking up her bag, and digging through it, she only paused in her searching to sign, quickly.

'Perish the thought, I just frowned at her.' Then she was digging again, pulling different odds and ends out before yanking down her scarf to grin brightly as she pulled something out that was wrapped in mildly smugged, brown paper. Varric leaned forward, peering over a stack of parchment, only to have Hawke wave him away, pointing firmly at his chair.

"Hey! Its my duster, I'm allowed to see what you're doing with it!" He protested, only to sit back down when her eyes widened. He cupped his chin with a sigh, and muttered "Fiiiine, I'll just wait and grumble here." Hawke shot him a wink, then hunkered down to do, whatever she was doing.

The dwarf hummed softly, drinking his ale, and actually started to doze, the day catching up with him. He was fit, especially by dwarven standards, though not a complete meathead like the Warrior chaste. The amount of activity for him, was, at a stretch, over the top. Yeah, he was used to banging a few heads together, dealing with the various gangs, and the Carta and Cortie's thugs, but dragons? That was crazy, even for him.

Varric wasn't sure how much time had passed, when a gentle hand shook his shoulder. Startled, he found his empty ale mug on the table, all the paperwork gone, his duster on the table in front of him, and Hawke wearing nothing but her scarf, with a mug of ale in both hands... Varric sat up, blinking, and almost pouted when that vision as replaced with the reality of Hawke holding out a mug that smelt of one of his dragonthorn teas, wearing all of her clothes, while sipping a mug her-self. She raised a questioning eyebrow, setting both mugs down,

'We have a job to do in an hour, thought this may help wake you.' He scrubbed his face, Maker, where in the Void did **that** mental image come from? Then gave Hawke a distracted smile,

"Thanks, Hawke." He took a rather deep drink of the scalding hot tea, ignoring her alarmed look, and breathed out.

'Bad dream?'

"Dwarves don't dream," He muttered, taking another, smaller, drink. Hawke looked at him, waiting, and he waved a hand, sighing, "Just a very... weird mental image that replaced reality for a moment."

'Must have been bad, you looked like you had seen Bartrand AND Carver in a dress and snogging each other.' A shudder coursed down his spine as Varric thought about that,

"Ugh, thank you so much for that mental image." He groused, rubbing his hand over his eyes. At least Hawke believed it was something horrific... which it certainly wasn't, but he'd be damned if he'd admit it. She gave him a nod, eyes twinkling with mischief.

'So what was it, oh dwarven manager?' She asked, trying to play the innocent and failing. He just looked at her, downing another mouthful of tea, while earning a shrug and an eyeroll, 'Fine, just trying to help, after all even a waking dream could have significance.'

"Hawke, you are trying to bullshit a bullshitter." Varric responded with a grin, earning a wide eyed, far too innocent,

'Who me?' He had to laugh, finishing his tea before standing with a groan. He had to get some damned cushions on his chair if he kept falling asleep in it.

"Come on, lets get ready to face the scary Rivani." Hawke sighed, slumping a moment, before standing and putting on her scarf.

Varric grinned, picking up the duster, before noticing a slight weight difference. Looking down, he noticed a new, fine leather harness carefully, and securely stitched into the duster. Along the leather were many dwarven symbols for health, luck, strength, and profit. He had to grin, at the last one, but in the clasp for the harness, was a shining rune stone of protection. The entire set up looked like it had always been a part of the long duster. The dwarf ran his fingers over the rune, watching it glow softly.

"Damn, Hawke... how did you afford this? This is... well." Varric had to stop himself, feeling foolish over getting sentimental over additional armour. Hawke knelt in front of him, her eyes shining, but a clear smile on her face.

'Do not ask, please, but I am glad you appreciate it." Part of him wanted to find out, to repay the debt of the gift. But he decided to smile, placing a hand on her shoulder, and simply appreciate the gesture.

"Thanks, Hawke. I'll wear it proudly." Then he grinned, adding with a wink, "This does NOT get you out of any of those pints though." She barked a single laugh, and hugged him, suddeenly, startling the dwarf. Varric hovered a moment, before giving in and returning the embrace. His eyes closed, enjoying the closeness, and the feel of her arms around him. When she pulled away, he had a moment's reluctance but hurriedly let her go afterwards. She gave him an odd look, then shook her head faintly, and signed,

'You are my closest friend, Varric, I am sorry if the hug was too much?' He grinned, and ruffled her hood, making her flail her hands in surprise,

"Just didn't know you were a hugger, now Blondie! He is a hugger and probably a cuddler, to boot." Hawke rolled her eyes, but clearly relaxed, standing up and collecting her staff.

'You do not need to tell me that, I have thus far avoided that can of worms, thank the Maker he thinks I have to avoid touching!' Varric slipped into his duster, the new leather of the harness soft and seeming to be tailored, the additional rune clasp barely requiring any forefront to remember, feeling like it belonged there all along. Damnit, he just fell in love with his duster all over again, and Hawke would now always be associated with it! If he didn't know any better, he'd suspect she was deliberately inserting herself into everything important to him. Damnit, damnit, damnit! He noticed Hawke studying him, those strange eyes studying him. Mentally giving himself a shake, Varric gave her a smirk and a wink,

"Just appreciating the craftsmanship, come on, lets get Blondie and Broody, hopefully they'll be a bit more civil tonight." Hawke gave him a look, before signing,

'That is like hoping to see a nug fly.' He had to laugh, and laughed the entire way out of the Hanged Man.


End file.
